The Last Odyssey
by chessboards
Summary: When the Ring of Power awakens again, nine demigods embark on a quest to rid its evilness, traveling into the past and lands far and wide without a clue where they are headed. Can they destroy the Ring, solve the mystery of Reyna's veiled past, save a mysterious, young girl, and fix rewritten timelines all at the same time? Or will the world as they know it crumble and fall?
1. Arrival of the Ring: Percy

**First, this story will not always be book-canon, and it will take ages, for me to update. Second, this is an entry for FanFiction ImagiNation Challenge A, and because of the policy on no Betas, I apologize in advance for the errors. Third, CC, flames, and reviews are all welcome. Fourth, the first eleven chapters have been heavily edited, but the plot remains the same. Fifth, I found Piper McLean a nightmare when Rick wrote her thus I will be changing her character up a bit. Thank you and enjoy the show.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Lord of the Rings.**

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Arrival of the Ring: Percy

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PERCY was having a fairly normal day until the rider in black and the ring.

It was a regular day at Camp Half-Blood, as regular as it ever gets. The Apollo kids were shooting hoops, showing off their archery skills, and of course, flirting with many different girls. Percy sighed. It was so good that the War of the Giants was over, and most people survived, too. Everything seemed so peaceful, the two camps were united, and everything was going fine. Chiron and Lupa were thinking about having a Roman _and_ Greek training course for young demigods, which would actually be pretty cool except for that big word they used called cultural diffusion or some other whatnot.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain," said a familiar voice.

Percy turned his head to see Annabeth walking towards him with two Coke cans in her hands. Soda… It always kept Percy awake. He smiled, thanking her for the soda, and inviting her to sit on the bench next to him.

"Yum," he said, sipping at the soda. He wondered how Annabeth had gotten them.

Annabeth laughed, soft and melodious. The two just sat there on the bench, gazing at the camp and sipping soda.

"I bet you can't beat me in a race up the climbing wall," Annabeth muttered to Percy.

"Really, Wise Girl? We did that a long time ago. I totally beat you."

"Try again then."

Percy sighed, pecked Annabeth on the cheek, stood up, and took her hand.

"If you insist, Annabeth…"

She smiled as they walked over to the climbing wall. Cassandra, or Casey as she preferred to be called, the director of the climbing wall, stood there, looking bored and playing with her flaming red hair.

"Hey, Case," called Annabeth. "Mind if we climb the wall?"

"Nope! I'm actually getting really bored. But there's no one else volunteering to be in charge of the wall today. So one of you have to be the spotter, and I'm the B-Team. Okay? If you're doing a contest, I have a timer."

Percy grinned. "It's almost like you read our minds. Let Annabeth go first."

"Sure." Annabeth shrugged. She got ready with the harness and ropes while Percy stood nearby and snickered.

"Do you have to stand there and smirk while I do this?" asked Annabeth.

"Sure I do."

Soon, Annabeth was rigged up on a harness, and Percy was acting as spotter. The wall shook as lava poured down it.

"Spotter ready?" asked Annabeth.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Percy replied, yawning widely. Annabeth glared before continuing.

"B-Team ready?"

"Ready," Casey called.

"Climb on?"

"Climb on."

Annabeth scrambled up the side of the wall like a gazelle, gracefully pulling herself up towards the next handhold. The wall shook, but Annabeth was prepared for that. She leapt to the right, grabbing onto another outcropping. Slowly, she made her way to the top, just as the boulders clashed together with a boom.

"Eight minutes and thirty-nine seconds, Annabeth!" called Casey, looking up from her timer.

"Cool! It's Percy's turn now…"

"Alright! I'm going to beat you, Annabeth. Believe me…"

Casey lowered Annabeth down slowly from the wall, letting her go at her own pace. When she reached the bottom, Annabeth gave the waiting son of Poseidon her ropes. Percy got his harness ready, thinking about the fastest way up the wall without getting scorched by lava. Sadly, he didn't have Annabeth's brains, so basically, his plan was pretty straightforward: Improvise.

"Spotter ready?"

"Yes," replied Annabeth, smirking.

"B-Team ready?"

"Ready," muttered a bored Casey.

"Climb on?"

"Climb on."

Percy scampered up the wall quickly. Half way up, a burst of lava took over. Percy dodged to one side before climbing on again. The wall shook when he was reaching for another handhold. The climber desperately reached up for the hold, and thankfully, found it.

It seemed pretty easy, and Percy was getting confident about beating Annabeth's time until a spurt of lava issued from the wall. The lava was expected.

But the ring that came with it was not.

As soon as Percy saw the stream of red coming at him, he swung away to avoid it. But it wasn't just plain lava…

Even through the red, Percy could make out a circle–definitely ring-shaped. It looked like…well, lava. Instead of flowing down the wall like _normal__ lava__,_ it flew right at Percy, hitting him in between his eyes.

"Ouch!" Percy cried. The ring made from lava fell to the ground where it lay smothering in the grass.

"Did you get hit?" asked Casey.

"Yeah, but it was weird. Like the lava was _aiming_for me. Can I come down?"

"Of course, Percy," Casey answered as she lowered him down.

"Are you okay?" asked Annabeth, steadying Percy as his feet reached the ground. He was still shaking from slightly.

"Yeah. The lava was acting really weird; that's all."

Annabeth snorted. The three walked over to where that ring-shaped lava lay smothering in the grass. It was cooling already, something not unexpected, but it didn't cool into rock like it usually would. Instead, it stayed in that ring-shaped formation. Percy reached a hand out to touch it, but Annabeth slapped it away with a look. They watched the lava cool, and in time, Percy saw gold shine underneath the red glow. Finally, the last trace of lava disappeared, leaving not a rock, but a ring engraved with fancy writing from another language–it looked like Arabic to the son of Poseidon. The fancy script would normally be murder under Percy's eyes, but this time, he could see it clearly. They were glowing red, just like the lava, and after a while, even they shimmered and disappeared, leaving a golden band resting in the grass.

"We should tell Chiron," Casey suggested.

Percy reached out to touch the ring, but as soon as his finger touched the cold band of the gold, he shivered. It felt almost as if the ring was sending him a message to put it on, as if he was no longer the person in control_._ Percy, unable to resist the urge, slipped it on his finger.

Immediately, he heard something that sounded like another language, deep and dark. The screeching of horses filled the air, and Percy shivered from fright.

"Percy!"

Percy jerked the ring off his finger to see Annabeth standing over him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You turned invisible. I guess that's just the power of the ring. That's not uncommon–"

Annabeth didn't get a chance to finish her sentence for at that moment, the temperature dropped, and the crack in the pavilion started shaking. As fog started to consume the once-sunny day, a horse rose out of the gloom. Usually, Percy liked horses, but this one seemed really unfriendly–emphasis on really. It tossed its beautiful mane of black hair before screeching an unholy scream–the screech you would here during an execution. Suddenly, all of the Percy's breath was sucked out of him. All the air turned towards the horse, all the mist, the coldness, everything zoomed towards it as if it was a magnet. Percy couldn't see it, but he felt it.

The air created an even denser area of fog above the black horse's back. It was only then when Percy realized the horse's eyes were blood red. He felt something like a shock wave ripple through the air, blasting his hair back. After he blinked, Percy saw a rider on the horse's back, clothed entirely in black with a hood over his or her face. Underneath, Percy thought he saw a glitter, which meant armor. Percy didn't know what to do. He drew Riptide, his sword, just as Annabeth unsheathed her dagger, and Casey took out her spear. The rider on horseback turned his or her head towards the trio.

In a disembodied voice, the rider said, _"Give me the ring, half-blood, and you shall be spared."_

Percy squeezed the ring in his hand even tighter. Why did this stranger want the ring? He (Percy decided the rider was male) sounded like Kronos's except even older, even more evil. Percy made up his mind. No matter what it meant, he couldn't give the ring up to the rider in black. Invisibility would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.

The black rider hissed something in a different language. It made shivers run down Percy's spine. He hopped off his horse, drew a short blade, and advanced, the tip pointed at Percy. Just the sight of the blade made Percy's legs tremble. It reminded him of Nico's Stygian Iron sword, where it sucked the soul from someone's body thus killing the victim. Annabeth stepped in front of him.

"If you want him, you'll have to get past me!" she said, holding up her dagger.

"Annabeth, don't!" Percy cried.

The rider raised his blade and crashed it down on Annabeth's dagger, sending it spinning away in the grass. Percy stepped in front of her now. He blocked an attack from the rider, stabbed at him from the side, and rolled in the grass before he could to anything else. Casey was doing a good job keeping the rider busy as well. Together the three pushed the rider back towards the climbing wall, lava still pouring down from it. But they were tiring, and the rider wasn't. Sooner or later, he would get a good hit. The rider suddenly used the flat of his blade and swept Casey off her feet. She landed several yards away, groaning. He raised his sword, about to bring it crashing down.

Suddenly, three arrows sprouted from the rider's chest. He screeched in pain (the screech sent shivers down Percy's spine again) before falling back into the lava, bursting into flames, and disappearing in a shower of sparks. The horse took one look at its rider's fate and neighed before taking off, sprinting away from Camp Half-Blood.

Percy turned around to see Chiron standing there, shaking, something that wasn't according to the usual.

"Monsters never attack here," whispered Katie Gardener, who was standing next to him. "What was that? I've never seen a monster like that before. In fact, it looked more like a man than a monster."

"Come," Chiron commanded, ignoring Katie's comments. "We must resolve this immediately. Come. There will be a cabin meeting today."

Percy ran ahead to keep pace with Chiron, which wasn't easy when he was galloping. "But, Chiron, what was that thing that just attacked us?"

"That, Percy, was one of the _Nazgul_."

Behind him, Annabeth gasped, "That can't be true."

"Yes, Annabeth," Chiron said, his eyes sad. "It is not only our myths that remain true. And the Ring of Power has awoken yet again."

Suddenly, the ring in Percy's hand felt much more heavy and much more powerful than just an ordinary ring.


	2. The Ring-Bearer Decided: Jason

**Thank you to all who reviewed; flames will be proudly displayed and will not be taken down.**

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The Ring-Bearer Decided: Jason

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JASON was eating lunch when the Iris-Message arrived. He and Reyna were sitting under a maple tree in between their praetor houses, munching on sandwiches, backs against the trunk, arms brushing.

"It's a beautiful day," Jason muttered. It was true. The wind was breezy; the sun shone in the sky, and it wasn't scorching hot like the usual Californian weather.

"Yes it is," Reyna replied.

Jason grunted, lifting one arm to pull her closer, but at that moment, the air in front of him shimmered, forming a rainbow. Both he and Reyna jumped up, unsheathing their _pugios._ Jason breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was only an Iris-Message from Annabeth, Percy, and Chiron.

"Guys," Annabeth jumped to business immediately. "This is urgent. You _need_ to call a Senate Meeting like right now. Something strange is happening, and it's really, really serious."

"You mean _now?_" Jason asked.

"Yes, now! Please, Jason, this is serious–_really serious,"_Percy added. Okay, if Percy thought the situation was serious, then it _was_ serious.

Jason raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. We'll call a Senate Meeting, but you better have a good explanation as to why you called us at this time of day. Oh, yeah–"

He was cut off as Annabeth sliced through the rainbow, breaking it. Jason muttered a curse in Latin before turning to Reyna. "What do you think that was all about?" he asked, gently brushing away a strand of hair from her face. Reyna slapped it away, glaring at him.

"We'll find out," she replied. "Come on."

Abandoning their lunch, the two praetors raced down the streets of New Rome, skidding to a halt in front of Terminus, who waved his non-existent arms to stop them from barging into the city.

"Slow down, and let me inspect you," he huffed. "Weapons, hand them over."

Jason handed over his _gladius_ and _pugio_ while Reyna handed over her dagger and ring, which turned into a sword as she took it off. Terminus huffed, collecting the weapons before raising a suspicious marble eyebrow. "What's your hurry?" he asked, calmly putting the weapons in the basket around his neck.

"We're calling a Senate Meeting."

"About?"

"Don't know, but we will find out if you let us through."

Terminus huffed again before he allowed the praetors to pass.

Within ten minutes, the senators had gathered in the Senate House, chattering away, waiting for the two praetors. Sophia, the newly appointed augur, stood in the front, silently playing with her hair. Centurions of all five cohorts lined the front row while Lares stood in the back with retired legionaries. Soon, the praetors walked in, too.

"Senators!" Reyna's voice rang out over the chatter. "Camp Half-Blood is in need of our help! They have messaged us about a new crisis, and we are here to discuss it."

The air shimmered again to form an Iris Message, but this time, it showed the recreation room of the Big House at Camp Half-Blood. The cabin counselors were seated around the border of a Ping-Pong table, angrily arguing amongst each other. However, when they saw the other camp, they stopped, looking through the rainbow at the Senate.

Chiron clopped into the scene with a shirt read: _My other car is a centaur. _"This is no time for formalities; we are facing perhaps the biggest threat we've ever faced," he said in a voice that sounded uncharacteristically urgent. Both camps muttered silently amongst themselves while Chiron continued. "Show Camp Jupiter the Ring, Percy."

Percy, pale and looking shaken, stepped forward uncertainly and placed a single ring on the Ping-Pong table. Jason squinted. The ring shone in the light, one band of glittering gold. It looked like nothing, but Chiron flinched as the ring settled on the table.

"Leo, set it on fire," he continued.

Leo looked surprised. "What?"

"Set it on fire, child."

Leo looked on certain as he moved his finger close to the ring, lighting it up in flames. After a few seconds, the flames diminished. Leo's flames left a dark scorch mark on the smooth surface of the table, but the ring remained unharmed, the band unchanged. It still glittered in the light. People started muttering on both sides of the Iris-Message, no doubt spreading rumors about Chiron becoming senile.

"Wait! Look at it!"

People's eyes snapped back to the ring, still sitting on top of the table. On the golden band, engravings began to appear, lava red and contrasting the gold. It wasn't in Greek, Latin, or English.

Chiron nodded grimly. "Yes. It is no ordinary ring. It is a Ring of Power, and Rings of Power do not fare well with demigods. There were books telling us about the ancient times–times _before_ even the Titans and Gaea."

Some people shuddered at the mention of those names.

"They are true, much like how our Greek and Roman myths are true yet considered legends by mortals. They tell about magical beings that ruled the world with these rings, but evil in the west–evil that generates from this specific Ring–spread through the free lands." Chiron gestured to the golden ring on top of the table. "The markings that you see here are from a prophecy from a great time ago, before the age of our myths. They say: _One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them, and in the darkness, bind them._ Two lines from a prophecy that dominated the fate of the world."

"Chiron, I still don't understand what you are saying," interrupted a senator from the front row.

Chiron shuffled his hooves before he explained. "Before the Age of the Gods and the Age of the Titans, ages where even I cannot even remember, there were people, gods if you will, who ruled the Earth with Rings of Power. They ruled peacefully with each other; they governed their own race, but a Dark Lord, who used one Ring for his own greed, deceived them. That's where the actual prophecy comes into play.

_Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,__  
__Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_  
_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_  
_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne__  
__In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.__  
__One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them,_  
_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them__  
__In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."_

Both camps were silent, thinking this over. Finally, Annabeth spoke. "Percy found it. The One Ring."

And Jason listened as Annabeth told them the story of how Percy had climbed the climbing wall, how the ring had appeared from the lava, and how a rider in black fought them.

"But why?" asked Reyna. Jason jumped; she had been so silent during the meeting, he almost forgot she was there. "Why did the Ring come to Percy through the lava?"

Chiron stepped into the view again. He sighed. "Well, Reyna, my dear, that is a very good question, one that I have the answer to, quite fortunately. The lava that runs through our wall comes from one place and one place only. Mount Etna, the place where Celestial Bronze weapons are made. And Mount Etna, coincidentally, is on the same location as Mount Doom, the place where the Ring of Power was forged. The Ring was destroyed a long time ago by a party of nine. They tossed it into the fiery chasm from whence it came, but it was not enough. What remained of its evilness is here and now. The Ring has sense its master call."

"But who _is_ its master?" Jason asked.

"Think, Jason. If the Ring comes from Mount Etna, who is under there?"

Jason's mouth went dry. "Typhon."

"Yes. These old myths still influence our myths today. Sauron–the forger of the One Ring and its one and only master–is indeed an…earlier version of Typhon."

"How do we destroy it?" asked Hazel, who was sitting in the front row.

Chiron smiled. Before you hear what you must do to destroy this evilness, you must agree to your quest – your quest to destroy this Ring. If you know where you must go, I'm afraid you will back out."

"Do you know who's on the quest?" asked Annabeth.

"No…and yes… In the old myths, there were nine people on the quest. Nine for each Ringwraith or the Riders in Black–the one Percy faced today. Nine of the bravest demigods must go on the quest."

"And we need a prophecy," Reyna added. Glances turned to Rachel. She shuffled her feet under the table.

"I don't feel anything," she whispered.

"But we return to the topic of who should go destroy the Ring."

"Why? Why must we destroy it?" asked Frank, also sitting in the front row. If it is a weapon of the enemy, shouldn't we use it _against_ them?"

"The One Ring answers to one master alone, Frank, son of Mars," Chiron stated sharply. "And that is final. Should you dare to try and use the Ring to your benefit, the consequences will be severe."

"Won't _you_ take it, Chiron," asked Travis.

"No, no, I dare not. For if I am ever overpowered by the temptation to put it on, then the power might be too great to contain. And that is a risk we must _never_ take, putting on the Ring."

Silence fell upon the camps.

"Who should go on the quest?"

"Isn't it obvious who should go though?" asked Katie Gardener. "The seven demigods of the last Great Prophecy and two others. They are the strongest and the bravest of the two camps."

Chiron cleared his throat. "Children, I will let you decide who must go, and there is no rule saying someone can or cannot go, but I will give you a piece of useful advice. Someone–Roman or Greek, male of female–someone in the nine must have great resistance to the Ring's power. He or she must never be tempted to put the Ring on, even in the darkest times. And you who travel with the ring-bearer must protect him or her with perhaps the cost of your life."

People muttered uncomfortably. Percy had already bowed down to the Ring's power earlier that day. What chance did the others have against it? And protecting the Ring with the cost of a life?

"Not someone from the Roman side," someone commented from Camp Half-Blood. "They will use it. Too power-hungry if you ask me."

Immediately, chaos broke out. People stood up and shouted at the other side of the Iris-Message. Jason leapt to his feet, trying to calm everyone down, but it was no use. Even after the Giant War, the Romans still didn't trust the Greeks, and the Greeks still didn't trust the Romans. There was tension every time a Senate meeting held place with Greeks watching from an Iris-Message, but that one comment had set Senators and Lares off. _Son of a gorgon_and _graecus sewer_ were some of the nicer things they were yelling.

Over the shouting, one voice stood out.

"I will take it! I will take the Ring!"

Jason closed his eyes; he knew that voice only too well, and so did the others for they stopped their squabbling immediately.

"I will take the Ring," declared Reyna.

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**Like I said, not every aspect will be book-canon.**


	3. Prophecies and Departures: Reyna

**Thank you all once again for the reviews. I greatly appreciate the feedback even though I would like to remind everyone that I stated from the beginning that not everything will be book-canon. I'm also quite sorry for the overuse of semicolons and all the possible grammar mistakes I might have.**

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Prophecies and Departures: Reyna

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REYNA didn't know what she was doing. Among the quarreling Romans, she knew she had to stop it before things got too out of hand. Someone was yelling about Greeks being too weak to carry the Ring. Another replied that Romans were too power-hungry. There were few who sat there and did nothing and even fewer who tried to stop the argument. Reyna stood up.

"I will take! I will take the Ring!"

Silence followed her exclamation.

"I will take it," she declared.

"Reyna…" Jason began.

"No, Jason. I'm taking the Ring," Reyna replied. "Does anyone protest?" She held her head up high, daring anyone to challenge her. No one did. Reyna sat back down on her praetor chair. "Good."

Chiron looked grim as he stepped back into view. "Reyna, I know you make your decisions wisely. If it is indeed your will, then so be it."

Reyna nodded. She turned to the Senate. "Everyone who agrees that I shall carry the Ring say '_aye!'"_

A chorus of "aye" echoed through the crowd.

"Majority rules," Reyna declared. "Now, Chiron, where do we have to go to destroy the Ring again?"

Before Chiron could talk, Sophia stepped forward, her eyes starry. Reyna knew this routine too well. Whenever Sophia had a vision Apollo wanted to share, her eyes would shine like stars while she muttered nonstop. However, this time, she could distinguish words among the muttering; it sounded like a prophecy.

"_The nine shall enter the dead's domain.  
__One shall feel the Nazgul's blade."_

On the other side of the Iris-Message, Rachel started spewing green smoke, eyes glowing. She joined in with Sophia on the last four lines.

"_Lightning's daughter shall suffer pain.  
__Caused by the creature of the raid.  
__And one last hero shall prevail.  
__To rid the evil once and for all."_

Sophia opened her eyes while Rachel fell face-forward onto the Ping-Pong table.

Sophia moaned. "I just made a prophecy, haven't I?" she asked.

"Yes, you did," replied Chiron. "And it identifies another member of the quest. One of the lines said _lightning's daughter shall suffer the pain._ And there is only one daughter of lightning alive–Thalia."

Someone from the Senate piped up, "So isn't it obvious who needs to go on the quest? Thalia and Reyna are part of the quest for sure, and that leaves seven other spots. The seven of the prophecy should fill those places."

"And what about Nico? He is a son of Hades, and since we're supposedly going to the dead's domain, I think he would be quite useful. Why shouldn't he go on the quest?" challenged a Lar.

"If all the most powerful demigods of the century are going on this quest, who remains to protect New Rome and Camp Half-Blood?" Chiron replied. "Nico is needed here, and I'm sure he would not go unless it was absolutely necessary."

The Lar backed down, grumbling about twenty-first century kids.

Annabeth stood up. "So it's settled. We'll contact the Hunters of Artemis to let Thalia and Piper know about this, but there's still one last thing. Chiron, you haven't told us where we need to go yet. You said it would scare us out of going on the quest, and now, we've all agreed to go."

"Annabeth," Chiron started. "You've read the old myths among many other records in the Athena cabin. They say the ring was cast into the fires of Mount Doom of Mordor, the home of Sauron, to be destroyed, but it has returned. The Ring has heard its master's call. Its master is Typhon. And so where is _his_ home? Where was he born? It's the place where all monsters originate."

The two camps were quiet. No one dared to say it. Finally, Percy broke the silence. "Tartarus," he whispered.

"Yes…and no," Chiron replied. "You have to think deeper. What is now Tartarus was once called the Endless Pit in ancient times, times before the Titans and Giants– times before even Gaea and Uranus." He looked mournfully at the ring. "According to the old myths, this Ring's ore was mined in the Endless Pit by Sauron. He took it to Mount Doom to forge the ring. If we learn from our experience, something has to be destroyed at the root, just like why the Giants chose to attack Greece instead of America. When the ring was destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom, it was not enough. You must destroy it in Tartarus or the Endless Pit."

No one said a word.

Annabeth frowned. "But what if the monsters gained hold of it? What if they used it against us? Say we throw it into the pit and it goes to some monster. What will happen then?"

"Ah," Chiron responded. "That is another thing. You cannot simply journey into the Underworld and toss it into the pit. That is folly and perhaps a tad bit too easy. You must travel into the past–into the time of the ancient myths. The Endless Pit and Tartarus are two different things. Monsters inhabit Tartarus while the Endless Pit is filled with different ores, waiting to be mined. There are no monsters there, so if you destroy it in the Endless Pit, no monster will rise to claim it."

"So basically, you're saying that we need to travel into the past–to the Endless Pit–and toss the Ring in there?" asked Reyna.

Chiron nodded sadly.

"And what if we fail? What if Sauron or Typhon or whoever he is takes back what is his?"

"Then we will be doomed. History will repeat itself, and the world would become chaotic; we would have to side with mortals. In other words, let's not let that happen." He paused. "But before you set out, you will need to learn about the ancient myths. There are records of them in the Athena cabin. We thought at first they were only pieces of mortal imagination, but alas, we were wrong."

"So what are we supposed to do? Visit Camp Half-Blood before we leave?"

Chiron nodded. "I will send you transportation tonight at dinner."

Reyna closed her eyes. She wasn't about going on any ordinary quest; she was traveling to her death. Going to Tartarus was bad enough, but going into the past and into the Black Land of Mordor was suicide.

"When do we leave?" asked Frank.

"As soon as possible," replied Chiron. "I'll leave it for you to decide exactly when."

The Iris-Message faded as Reyna turned back to the Senate.

"Dismissed," she said. "Members of the quest, stay here."

The Senate reluctantly walked out of the Senate House, heading to their activities. Frank, Hazel, and Jason stayed behind, watching the stream of people go. When the last whip of someone's toga disappeared from the door, Reyna spoke.

"We leave tonight. Go and pack before dinner; bring clothing, weapons, nectar, ambrosia, cash, drachmas, denarii, sleeping bags, and whatever else you need. Pack lightly."

She turned to Jason. "Anything else to add?"

He shook his head. "Dismissed."

As soon as Frank and Hazel walked out of the room, Jason turned on Reyna, eyes furious.

"Why the _inferno _did you do that–saying that you could take the Ring? It's too dangerous, Reyna."

Reyna looked deep into Jason's eyes. "It's my choice whether or not to bear the burden," she replied in an even voice. "And I have a feeling that I was destined to carry the Ring." Reyna's voice trembled slightly.

"I can't lose you, Rey," Jason whispered.

"No," she replied. "And you won't. I promise."

It was a perilous promise, and Reyna knew it. She also knew she was destined to carry the Ring, somewhere deep in her heart. It was like a whisper, barely audible, telling her that she must go bear the Ring on their quest. Her fate was tied to it. And there was no escaping fate, no matter how hard you tried.

That night, at dinner, Reyna and Jason made solemn speeches about leaving the Camp to go on yet another quest. Those who didn't know about it moaned and groaned at the announcement.

"And again, we need to replace our praetor and Centurion positions," Reyna said. She turned to Frank, "Who will be taking your place as the Centurion of Fifth Cohort?"

Frank shuffled his feet. "Gwen," he replied.

Jason nodded at Frank before saying, "I expect Sophia to hold praetor elections after we depart tonight."

Some groaned, and other nodded eagerly, probably seeing their chances at praetorship.

"You have one hour to eat. The game of Death Ball is cancelled tonight. Lights out at ten." Jason continued.

The Cohorts muttered amongst themselves while the four questers gathered at one table, silently waiting for the "transportation" Chiron promised he would provide. Reyna didn't know exactly what it was, but she had a bad feeling about it.

Suddenly, a horn blew in the distance. The four stood up, casting suspicious glances at each other. The thundering of what sounded like hooves galloped closer and closer. Reyna put her hand on her dagger. The doors of the Mess Hall banged open, just as Reyna unsheathed her dagger, facing the dreadful, frightening, ferocious…centaurs.

"Whoa, there!" shouted a black stallion with a shirt that said: _Forget Hogwarts! Come to Camp Half-Blood._ Reyna sighed. _This_ was the transportation Chiron planned for them?

"Reporting from Camp Half-Blood. Come to pick up four kids. You lot them?" asked a chestnut centaur with a thick Scottish accent and goatee.

Reyna nodded.

"Climb aboard then!"

Hazel willingly ran to a brown centaur, climbing on enthusiastically. Horses were her favorite animals; Reyna knew that. The other three, herself included, were more reluctant to ride them. When they were finally seated on top of the horses' backs, the centaurs took off. From her classes at camp, Reyna knew the centaurs could bend time and length to travel as fast as possible, but she didn't plan on actually experiencing it. The world was a blur of colors as the centaurs whizzed by multiple states, and soon, Reyna found herself in the pavilion of Camp Half-Blood where Percy and Annabeth were waiting for them along with Chiron. Reyna was too dizzy to listen to Chiron converse with his kin, so she stumbled over to Percy.

"Can I see the Ring?" she asked him cautiously.

Percy looked surprised that Reyna's first words would be those, but he took out a silvery chain from his pocket anyways. On it, symbols of some sort linked together to form an intricate design. The clasp was a silver leaf strung at the top. Hanging from the bottom, the Ring glittered as it swung back and forth in a hypnotic way.

Reyna felt drawn towards it, as if it was a magnet–like her blood was flowing in the direction on the Ring. She almost felt tempted to put it on, but stopped herself; she felt drawn towards it in a different way as well, as if the Ring was tied with her, a missing piece of her brain that needed to be filled–some part of her destiny. Reyna shook her head, clearing the thoughts. She held out her hand, expecting Percy to drop the chain into her palm, but he hesitated, almost withdrawing his hand at the last second. Hesitantly, he put it in her hand.

It was heavy, no doubt about that but also heavy in another sense, too–as if it was weighing Reyna's conscience down, as if the Ring was dulling her senses. Reyna shuddered despite herself. How was she supposed to carry this Ring to Mordor?


	4. A History Lesson: Percy

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, and constructive criticism is more than welcome. Please excuse all the grammar errors; I had little time to check over this. Also, it would mean the world to me if someone would take the time to point out some of the errors or suggest some ways to improve.**

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A History Lesson: Percy

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PERCY walked into the Big House; this was the day where they would learn all about the ancient times. Although the whole idea gave Percy one big headache as if someone was pounding on his head with a hammer, he was still curious about the world before the gods.

"Percy," said a voice, jerking him out of his thoughts. It was Chiron, in his wheelchair. All the demigods going on the quest were already there, and a big, red book rested on the green surface along with some scrolls. "Come sit. There's plenty of room. And if you are hungry or thirsty, there are drinks and food available." He gestured to crackers and Coke.

After Percy was situated, Chiron turned to the others.

"Today, we are here to discuss the ancient times–the time you will all be traveling. First, you must know about the Ring's history. And that is where this–" Chiron lifted the big, red book off the table, blowing dust off its cover, "–comes in." He opened the front cover.

"It was stored in the back shelves of the Athena cabin from a very long time ago; I distinctly remember the children using this as a campfire story to read before bed. After all, we thought they were figments of imagination, much like how mortals think of our myths today. However, I don't think we ever read to the end. It tells about the story of a hobbit named Frodo Baggins, who journeyed to Mordor and back, which has been rarely done."

Usually, Percy would've been bored to death by this kind of history talk taken from an ancient textbook, but for once, a history lesson kept him wide awake and listening–partly because Chiron was teaching the said lesson and partly because the knowledge he received just might save his life when they actually arrived at their destination.

"It all began with the forging of the Great Rings of Power," Chiron began, "and that is when the records began. These records do not say when specifically, but I personally believe it was in the Second Age, the age of Rings. Each of the Rings was made to control each race, such as Rings of Men, Rings of Elves, and Rings of Dwarves–the three main races, races still free from the power of Mordor. Three were for the Elven Rulers in their homes under the skies. Seven were forged for the Dwarf-Lords who ruled in their own mines and tunnels, deep in the mountains and halls of stone. And finally, nine rings for the mighty Kings of Men, all doomed to die, as the old prophecy says."

Some people shifted in their seats, trying to get comfortable.

"But even before the Rings were made, the world was divided into shadows and light. In the land of Mordor to the east, shadows and evil which no one dared to name dwelled."

Chiron took a deep breath. "With these Rings, the Elves, or the forgers of these Rings, hoped to stop the spreading evilness of Mordor, raging across the free lands of Middle Earth, which is where you will be going on your quest."

In Chiron's eyes, Percy saw a sad glint; as if he was old enough to witness these things go by.

"However, they were all deceived…as another Ring was made. It's a lesson we can all learn from; the shadows and the dark are things you can never defeat, things you cannot vanquish or hope to destroy forever. We all must keep fighting for what we believe to keep the light at bay, and as you all know, Sauron, who once might have acted no different from a man, took gold ore from the Endless Pit before traveling to Mount Doom, where he made the Ring of Power in secret, hidden away from the others. This was a Master Ring, where Sauron poured his soul–a soul filled with cruelty, evilness, and malice–into this one Ring. By doing so, he was making himself a monster, and slowly, the power of the Ring turned him into a malice, looming far and wide over Middle Earth, almost like an aspect of the demon."

Out of the corner of Percy's eye, he saw Reyna clutch at the chain hanging around her neck. On it, as he knew, hung the very golden circle they were talking about.

"And one by one, the free lands of Middle Earth bowed down to the power of the Ring. Sauron offered power to the nine Kings of Men. They accepted, bowed down to the One Ring's power. In time, they became the Nazgul, or Ringwraiths, servants to Sauron's will."

Percy shuddered. A Nazgul was the thing that tried to attack him before. If there were nine of them after the Ring, how did the quest stand a chance?

"They are attracted to the Ring, Reyna," Chiron continued, directing his words to the Ring-Bearer sitting in her seat. "Never put it on, never in a million years. Never–not even in the most desperate situation–not even when you are standing at the edge of the Endless Pit with Nazguls after your blood."

Reyna nodded, still fingering the Ring, reminding Percy of something Annabeth would do with her camp beads.

"But some resisted to the Ring's power; a man named Elendil and an Elf King named Gil-Galad. They both were honorable historic figures, and together, they united Elves and Men in something called the Last Alliance. Together, the two groups marched against the armies of Mordor, finally defeating it. Elendil, wielding his faithful sword, Narsil, was put down in battle by Sauron, who appeared amongst his monsters himself, crushing the blade under his iron-clad foot."

Chiron, being the great teacher he was, had everyone on the edge of their seats, anticipating what the next events were.

"Hope was not lost, however, for Isildur, son of Elendil, took up his father's broken sword by the hilt, and he sliced the Ring clean off of Sauron's Black Hand. He recalled that the markings that once shone as brightly as flames were diminished, a secret that only fire can tell."

Percy suddenly remembered how he saw those markings on the band once before.

"And so Isildur became the King of Gondor, the kingdom of men. In time, a new country developed; farther north, the Riders of Rohan roamed on horseback while the people of Gondor stayed by their river, forever guarding the Black Land of Mordor."

By now, Percy thought all the lights in the room had been dimmed. Whether it was his eyes playing tricks on him or the mere power of the story and the names that came along with it, he did not know.

"But Isildur had a chance–a chance to stop all evil forever, but his heart was filled with the power of the Ring. He could've destroyed the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom, where he was lead, but he did not. He turned back, saying that the One Ring came to him; it chose him as its rightful owner. It would become an heirloom of his kingdom; all his descendants would be tied to the fate of the Ring."

People looked at each other, eyes wide.

"However and shortly afterwards, Isildur was ambushed by a party of Orcs, the monsters of Mordor, near a river. Drunk with his power, Isildur put on the Ring, and as he was swimming across the river, the Ring slipped from his grasp, falling into the river depths, where it lay for eons and eons. As you might have guessed, Isildur was slain during the attack."

Chiron sighed, stopping his speech. "That is the most important part of the Ring's history that you must know. After some time, the Ring was discovered, and Frodo Baggins came across it; he took it to Mount Doom to be destroyed. That is another story you will listen to if you ever return."

_If_ you ever return, not _when _you return… To Percy, Chiron sounded as if he just handed them an execution date and said, "Cool! Go save the world! Return and you get to hear another story! Isn't that great?"

"Our lava from the climbing wall comes from Mount Etna, once the peak of Mount Doom. When Typhon stirred years ago, the Ring must've heard its master's call. Now, in the present day and years later, it has reawakened. You, all nine of you, must go to destroy it."

Percy grimaced. This wasn't like any quest he had ever been on. No one spilling with information or complete knowledge of the land, no Grover, no _Argo II._ Worst yet, none of them had a sliver of an idea where they were even going. They were traveling to unfamiliar land, the land of the past. How could anyone know about that?

Chiron picked up the scrolls on the table, nine of them in all, and tossed them to each person sitting around the table. Percy caught his in midair, unfurling the delicate parchment, crumbling under his touch. He stopped for a second before unrolling the scroll with more care. When it was laid out in front of him, Percy saw that it was a map, a map with many labels, big and small, faded and crumbling. It was old–Percy was sure of that. The faded letters might've once been red or gold and fancy in script, but by now, they were a dull greyish color, the color of dust and old age, hardly discernable.

The main label was on the bottom left-hand corner. _Middle Earth._ From what Chiron had said, it was the place where the Ring and all the history took place.

Chiron spoke, "Study this map carefully, young ones. This is where you will be journeying, and believe it or not, it's very, very dangerous–and I daresay it's even more dangerous than Greece and Rome. Memorize it. Take it with you on your quest; it will help."

Percy studied the map; it seemed familiar somehow. Despite his dyslexia, he could read most of the letters, which eventually formed into words. Some read: _Gondor, Rohan, Mordor, Shire, Rivendell, Mines of Moria, Helms Deep,_and_Isenguard._ Rivers flowed right to left, and to the west, an arrow read _Undying Lands._

Suddenly, Thalia, who was next to Percy, dropped her map, sending it flying to the floor. Percy reached down to catch it, and came up, grinning, holding a flipped map in his hands.

Percy knew when you held a piece of paper up to the light, you could almost see through it, as if the once-opaque paper decided to turn translucent. He had tried to get a sneak peek of test papers during his earlier school days many times like so, but managed few times with success. With faded and crumbling parchment, even thinner than paper, the faded ink was somewhat easier to see, forming a reflection sprawled right across the back of the map. As his eye caught the reflected image, Percy gasped. He snatched the parchment away from Thalia's waiting hands, causing her to give him a funny look, evidently bewildered.

"Percy, what–"

Thalia's voice diminished as she saw the image that shone through the thin, crackling parchment.

"It's America," she said, voicing what Percy was thinking, too.

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**As you can tell, I am not very good at expressing myself or describing what I want people to see, am I?**


	5. Quest Beginning: Jason

**A warm thank you goes out to all reviewers of all sorts; believe it or not, but it means a lot to me when you compliment my stories and say they are worth reading. Reminder that not everything in this story will be book-canon, and Middle Earth is in no sense in the same shape as America.**

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Quest Beginning: Jason

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JASON walked over to Percy, looking over his shoulder. As he looked, he saw the reflected image of the map, showing through the crackling parchment. The borders of the map were in the same shape of the United States, completed with rivers and mountains. His eyes widened in shock.

"What…?" Jason asked, confused.

No one bothered to answer him, crowding around Percy. After getting over their shock, every pair of eyes in the room turned to Chiron, still in his corner.

"Like I said before, children, the things nowadays are based on the old myths, and that includes the geography as well; Middle Earth is indeed in the shape of America. The problem is you are traveling to the past thus your actions might change history, and if history changes, will things here be utterly destroyed? It is a paradox, an endless paradox; this is the gamble we must all take by starting this quest. And it's the reason you must not fail. It could destroy everything–including the world we are in right now, far into the future…so to speak. I do not dare to even think about the future if you should fail."

The demigods stood there, speechless. The weight of the world rested on their shoulders–again.

Jason spoke up, "If that's the case, what are we waiting for? We need to get going before more of those Ringwraiths pick up our scent. I mean, I think demigod scent is pretty obvious to them; we've all been told we smell."

Others nodded in agreement as Jason finished his little speech, and some even cracked a smile at the smelly comment. Chiron shuffled uncomfortably.

"I'm not sure how this really works, children, but I suppose I must give this a shot sooner or later." He clopped to the middle of the room. Legend–and instinct only is enough–tells me that only imagination can open the doors to the past. If this is correct, like all the other legends, you must imagine what the past would've been like–millions of years ago."

Whenever someone said that, Jason always imagined cavemen sitting on top of dinosaurs while the gods looked at them in disapproval. However, he didn't think that would've been the situation or the right thing to imagine.

"So sit down, all nine of you, and close your eyes. Imagine what the world would've been like millions of years ago. Think of open, clear skies with birds flying across. Think about grass as green and crisp as it might've been–a bright world filled with the sound of magic, singing, water trickling, birds calling… Just imagine and let your mind wander; try to imagine Middle Earth."

Jason found that highly unlikely as most of the demigods were ADHD, but he tried to imagine things as they might've been once before, unconsciously closing his eyes and scrunching up his face with concentration.

Almost immediately, an image came into his mind. Jason saw bright green trees–leaves full and shaking in the wind, which carried a sweet smell of baking bread. Far off towards the horizon, he saw purple and black mountains, towering over the landscape, the tops capped with mist and snow. Singing, melodic voices forming enchanting melodies and harmonies filled the background. It must've been a great place to live–a land with no pollution and all. The more he imagined, the clearer the picture became, and the more his mind told him he wanted to go there, the more vivid it became. All his senses were absorbed in that scene, that one scene with rolling hills and mountains far away in the distance.

In a blinding flash, Jason was sucked into the past, away from the Big House. Surprised, he opened his eyes for a fraction of a second, just enough time to see Chiron waving at him, an encouraging look on his face and also gesturing for him to keep on concentrating.

"Take heed!" he yelled at the disappearing figures of the nine demigods. "And beware the–"

Blackness washed over everything, cutting Chiron off.

When Jason opened his eyes again, he was lying on a bed of lush grass, green and crisp. The canvas of the sky stretched above his head, clear and blue, just like Chiron had described it. He moved his hands and legs–all good, no fingers or toes missing, nothing seemed broken. Yet Jason felt a pounding in his head that he couldn't ignore, most likely a result of time traveling. Around him, the eight other demigods started to sit up, groaning and stretching. Jason couldn't help but notice all their packs were also there.

"What is that racket out here?" asked an unidentified voice.

Jason swiveled his head around to see a little girl, wearing a yellow sundress, with brilliant blue eyes and blonde hair, about three feet tall, standing in what looked like a doorway…except the doorway itself was only four and half feet tall and round like a circle, painted gold. From his position, the doorway led into a tunnel, extending deep into the hill. Jason wasn't sure.

The girl studied the nine, standing in her yard, which Jason noticed was neatly trimmed and blossoming with flowers. And now that Jason started to look around, he saw there were many hills in the area, some with chimney holes sticking up from the top and others with doorways in them.

"I'm sorry, my sirs and ladies," the girl continued. "We don't often get Big Folk around here, gave us quite a shock there. You're interrupting our Elevensies. If you wish to join us, strange folks, please, do come in. We've always got room for another Hobbit. My name is Diamond of Long Cleeve, Northfarthing, and what are yours, good sirs and ladies?"

The girl spoke with a strange accent, maybe British, maybe Southern. It sounded like a mixture of both, but Jason wasn't thinking about her dialect. Elevensies? Big Folk? Long Cleeve? Northfarthing? Hobbit? Jason was confused, but the girl didn't seem at all surprised to find nine strangers in her yard, all twice her size.

The girl beckoned them to come into her house or hill or whatever she called it, and Jason looked at Reyna, who was the leader of the quest. She gave him a tiny nod before walking into the hill, stooping low as the doorframe was much too small for her.

Inside, a hallway stretched into the hill, straight, narrow, and low. Rooms lined the hallways, some round, others square. Everything was brown but polished and dusted; it was quite a nice place to live considering it was a tunnel under a hill. Jason had been expecting a nasty wet hole with worms and other things of that sort.

"Oh my," muttered the girl who called herself Diamond. "I see you are quite high for a Hobbit. Quite a strange party of nine you are…quite strange indeed." She put on a smile. "I think my husband would enjoy meeting you. Make yourselves at home. No shoes though; I don't want anyone treading mud everywhere. You can put your hats and sticks here on this rack, your coats over here…"

Jason's mind whirled. How old was this girl? She was _married?_ To him, the short little girl couldn't have been over twelve years old, thirteen at the very most.

After getting settled and taking their shoes off, with great difficulty seeing that they had to stoop and bend everywhere, bumping into each other countless times in the process, Diamond lead the nine down the long hall towards what seemed like the kitchen. Jason noticed she wore no shoes, but her feet were rather large and hairy with hard, leathery bottoms.

The kitchen was shaped like a rectangle, a stove and fireplace to one side, tables and chairs to another, cabinets lining the halls, and a big, round window on one wall, letting sunlight stream through. A grandfather clock ticked by itself in one corner, surrounded by old rocking chairs, while dishes teetered and tottered in the sink, stacked high. At a very small table, a boy sat with the same curly hair as their hostess only a little darker, and his eyes were a light shade of brown. He wore a strange, black overcoat that looked much too big on him, a pipe sticking out of the side of his mouth, and a black top hat tilted on his head. With his amiable grin and pipe, he looked almost comical.

"We have visitors," Diamond announced before sitting down herself, directly across from the boy.

The boy stood up, a smile stretched across his face. "Welcome to my humble Hobbit hole, dear travelers. My name is Peregrin Took, son of Paladin, Mayor of the Shire, but everyone calls me Pippin. Would you care for a drop of brandy? Or some scones perhaps? We also have a fine barrel of Old Toby in the cellar if that's what you prefer."

"Um…no thank you," replied Frank, clearly confused.

The boy–the Hobbit–smiled again before sitting down and taking up a quill, signing numerous papers stacked in front of him, reminding Jason of Reyna while they were dealing with their paperwork.

"Well, my travelers, if you're sure you're not going to have a drink, please, stay with us for lunch. I see you are not familiar with our ways yet, so tell me, what–"

The Mayor looked up as he said the _'what_,' and he stopped, face paling, raising a shaking finger at Reyna. Jason looked in her direction. Somehow, most likely due to the stooping, the Ring had slipped from the inside of her shirt, and it was glimmering in the bright sunlight, which shone through the big window.

"T-that's the Ring," he stuttered.

This day was about to get much more complicated.

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**This was quite a difficult chapter for me to write, so criticism of any sort will be more than welcome.**


	6. Journey in the Forest: Reyna

**Thank you to all who reviewed, especially that flamer who tried to reason with the fact that his or her opinion differed from mine. I don't understand what you are trying to prove if you act like an immature little girl and shove your opinions down people's throats. I will never see an eye to eye with you if you act like a drama queen and disrespect other people and their opinions, which is, in the end, still an opinion.**

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Journey in the Forest: Reyna

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REYNA's hand slipped to the Ring almost immediately. She curled her palm around the precious golden band, silently slipping it away under her shirt. Once again, Reyna felt the temptation to slip the Ring on, to disappear, to become invisible.

"What is this?" asked the Mayor who called himself Pippin, standing up.

"Nothing…" replied Reyna quickly. "It's just a Ring."

She knew she hadn't convinced Pippin.

"And Hobbits will fly if that's true!" he exclaimed. "That's the One Ring, and you must get rid of it at all costs; I would know that Ring anywhere! It was Frodo's." During his short exclamation, the short Hobbit paced around the room. "I was with him when he went to destroy it. In fact, I was one of his eight companions. My friend, Merry, and I helped in the war actually." Pippin took a deep breath before repeating, "You must get rid of it at all costs!"

He gestured for them to sit down. Being so tall, the demigods had to sit cross-legged on the floor, packed like sardines.

"Tell me your story," he demanded, plopping some dark green plant into his pipe. Reyna mentally grimaced at the pipe-weed, but she continued to talk even with the smell of the smoke. She told Pippin about how the Ring came to them in the future and how they traveled into the past to destroy it. As absurd as it sounded to her, Pippin seemed to buy every word of it.

"A strange party you are…a strange party indeed." He smiled as if those lines brought back bittersweet memories. "I have never heard of the Endless Pit before, but I will tell you this: The road to Mordor is dotted with dangers, and while I cannot offer you much help, I have something for you. If it is indeed true that the Ring of Power has awoken, and you are traveling to the Mountain of Fire, then please, take these…"

The curly-haired Hobbit stood up and walked over to one of the cupboards. He opened the wooden door, creaking on its hinges, and brought out a stack of fabric. Nine of the shimmering, grey-green cloth were stacked and folded neatly on top of each other. He handed one to each of the demigods, carefully making sure no threads were discarded in the process.

"These cloaks were used in the last quest–cloaks of the Elven Kingdom–they will shield you from unfriendly eyes. Take them! Take them! Many think these fabrics were lost a long time ago, that their original owners need not of them no more. Quite the contrary, I still have them, all nine of them to be precise."

Reyna accepted her cloak with a quick thank you. The fabric was light, smooth, unlike any other she had ever seen, not even on Circe's island. The fabrics shimmered in the sunlight, mesmerizing her. A leaf-shaped clasp was on the top, polished and gleaming.

"Thank you," Reyna said again.

"Now, will you allow me to escort you from the Shire?"

"There's no need for that, Master Pippin," she replied. "We can manage on our own."

"Oh, at least I can grant you a safe passage through my lands. I have transportation all planned out as well," Pippin countered, picking up a walking stick. He glanced at the grandfather clock and sniffed. "Elevensies…" he muttered mournfully, reminding Reyna of Grover the satyr.

It turned out that the transportation Pippin had planned for the questers were Hobbit carriages, obviously much too small for the demigods. Even the biggest only held two demigods at a time, along with the driver.

"Oh dear…" Pippin muttered, squashed against a window in his carriage. "You are quite big indeed."

Reyna cracked a smile at his words. Outside, trees lush and green flashed by while Hobbits lined the streets, drinking, talking, and socializing. Some had great barrels filled with mead or baskets filled with carrots while other smoked contentedly on pipes while trimming the grass with old-fashioned shears. It seemed like a wonderful place to live, filled with peace and quiet. No matter where you looked, Hobbit doors lined the hillside, and smoke issued from the chimneys on top.

Soon, the carriage pulled up near two pairs of black, iron gates where guards let the nine through, courtesy of Pippin, who sent the nine off with a tip of his hat.

"Fair luck on your journey!" he cried. "And may the road lead you to dreams and places far and wide. Good day to you! Remember, the road goes ever on and on." With another tip of his hat, the mayor turned and headed back to his Hobbit hole, humming a tune cheerfully.

"Well," muttered Thalia as soon as Pippin was out of earshot, "that was a cheerful visit."

Reyna tore her eyes away from the figure growing farther and farther away.

"Let's go," she commanded before walking down the gravel road snaking its way outwards and straight into a dense forest. Reyna could feel unknown creatures fixing their eyes on her and shadows lurking behind the trunks, which stretched up and far into the sky, topped with a crown of lush leaves. Not much light penetrated through the thick canopy; the dimness gave the forest a gloomy mood. Ferns and bracken crackled in the light breeze, and the earth was damp and springy under their feet. The trees extended their roots, hoping for some unlucky traveler to fall into their traps. Twigs and branches reached out, blocking some trail while a fallen log dominated the road the nine were on, making perpendicular angles.

"I have a bad feeling about this place," Reyna heard Hazel whisper to Frank, who nodded, as they scrambled over the log. All the nine pairs of eyes were open wide, scanning the undergrowth for any signs of life to leap out at them. They moved slowly and carefully through the forest.

"Be on your guard," whispered Annabeth, who had her dagger out. Reyna's own fingers were inching towards the hilt of her own dagger as well, ready to defend.

The demigods journeyed on all day into the gloom of the forest, heading towards the East, following the trail, which led north and south, east and west. It was unpredictable and even more hard to follow for at times, the shrubs and overgrowing ferns covered the road completely. When they camped next to a giant oak tree that night, there was little talk while the demigods shared some food and drinks before each individual choose a watch.

The next two days followed like the first without any sign of danger. Reyna wondered when the stretch of woods ended or if it ended at all. By the fourth day in these woods, all the demigods had lost much hope of leaving the dense trees.

It was on the fifth day when the incident happened.

_Crack!_

A twig snapped behind the travellers, causing everyone to whip around, but it was only a raccoon, slowly walking across the trail, head bent and sniffing. Reyna silently breathed out a sigh of relief, but that was cut short by a shriek in the distance. It sounded unearthly, worse than the voice of Gaea or Kronos. It sounded like a piece of a detached soul, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

"Nazgul…" muttered Percy, obviously recognizing the sound from his previous encounter.

What energy that had left their bodies before now returned. Reyna glanced around wildly, but the trees prevented her from seeing much. Despite the lack of sight, Reyna heard the thundering of hooves in the distance.

"Run!" cried Percy, taking off with his pack bouncing behind him.

Reyna sprinted after him, sneakers pounding in the dirt. After a couple hundred meters, two black horses exploded from the trees in front of Percy, eyes manically red, coat shining black, mouths foaming. The riders were not much better; long length of fabric formed cloaks and hoods, and underneath that, Reyna saw the glint of metallic armor. Even their boots and gloves were covered with many metal plates.

She reached for her dagger. No way they were going to back down without a fight.

Thundering hooves echoed behind them as two more Nazgul came into view from behind. They were surrounded from all sides.

In unison, the riders slipped from their horses' backs and together, drew their short blades, pointing the tips right at the nine, standing in a circle.

_"Give up the Ring, girl…"_ one of them hissed.

Reyna's free hand went to her ring, strung on the chain, hanging from her neck. All of a sudden, it felt heavy, and not for the first time, the desire to slip on the golden band washed over her.

"Never," she spat back, resisting the urge, showing the Nazgul her own dagger. For some reason, one of them stepped back, but he got over his shock quickly, snarling an order to his companions in another language.

That was when all hell broke loose.

The Nazgul that talked to Reyna raised his blade. She blocked it before using a Greek disarming technique Percy had taught her. The Nazgul shrieked as his blade flew out of his hand, obviously not expecting her to fight back. He grabbed another hidden hilt from under his cloak, drawing out a sword, long and silver. Despite her attempts to stay calm, Reyna shuddered at the sight of blade. The Ringwraith stepped closer to her, lifting his sword; if Nazguls could laugh, this one certainly could.

Suddenly, a jet of flame flew in between the Nazgul and Reyna. The black-cloaked creature shrieked his unearthly shriek again before retreating from the light. Reyna looked back to see Leo, shooting jets of fire at the Nazgul.

"They're afraid of fire!" he cried, continuing to shoo the riders and their horses away. After a few minutes of trying to break through, the Nazgul turned around and fled on their horses.

Everyone looked at Leo in shock, but he had a crazy grin on his face that made Reyna wonder just how many coffees he had that morning.

"That. Was. _Awesome!"_ he cried, punching the air and whooping.

Reyna rolled her eyes at his crazed expression. "Come on. We need to get away before they come back, and I bet they're calling for reinforcements right now. Does anyone have a clue where we are?"

Everyone shook his or her head, but Annabeth bit her lip, an expression of deep thought on her face. "I think I might know. I mean, after traveling for five days. Well–" she pulled out her map, conveniently stored in her coat pocket. "I think we're close to the watchtower of Amon Sûl, the great Weathertop and Watch Tower, and if my estimations are true…" Annabeth looked up, her eyes shining. "We should be out of here soon. On top of that, we're close to the home of the elves, the last homely place east of the sea."

Reyna didn't know anything about the elves, but anything other than the Nazgul sounded good, and besides, the last homely place east of the sea couldn't be too bad, could it?

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**Goodness, that was a terrible chapter, wasn't it?**


	7. Dreams of Sauron: Percy

**Thank you to all reviewers; your feedback is greatly appreciated and will be taken into account very seriously. Again, not everything in this story will be canon according to the books nor will the portrayal of Piper McLean be the same.**

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Dreams of Sauron: Percy

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PERCY knew nothing about this…Weathertop that Annabeth had mentioned. She was probably the only one of the nine who actually _read_ about this place, and based on what Chiron said, even Annabeth hadn't read to the end. Of course, he trusted Annabeth with his heart, and she was right, too, for after another day of walking through the forest, the demigods reached open sky and grassy fields. Percy nearly cried out in relief when he set foot onto the grass, feeling the fresh air blow on his face after the dankness of the forest, isolated from air and sunlight. It felt so good to be in the open again, facing the sun and hearing the birds chirp.

However, their happiness was soon dampened yet again when less than one day later, Thalia accidently set foot into a bog, nearly toppling over in surprise.

"What is this?" she cried out, stepping into a swampy area that looked like solid ground. She lurched backwards, bumping straight into Piper, who kept the two of them balanced.

It had been raining for two days before the swamp, and although the nine didn't notice it, a great number of mosquitoes had appeared along with the pouring rain and crackling lightning.

"It looks like a swamp," Hazel muttered, flicking her curly black hair, drenched with rain, away from her eyes. "Look at the number of mosquitoes!"

Percy mentally groaned; he hated mosquitoes. When Percy was still a young boy, Smelly Gabe, his stepfather, would come home every night with a smell that mosquitoes were addicted to–possibly the mixture of stale beer and tobacco, but Percy never bothered to find out.

Thunder boomed as a forked lightning streaked down not so far away from where the demigods stood, soaking wet and huddled.

"Let's move before one of us gets struck by lightning," Leo suggested. "We have to cross this swamp sometime, right? Let's just get it over with."

In a single file line, Reyna coming in first and Percy bringing up the rear, they waded through the swampy areas. Mosquito groups increased in number and size as they neared the center, biting and sucking blood. Percy hoped that they weren't disease-infected. In a world from the past, you never know. Although his history never got him above a 'D' in his life, Percy was quite sure there were no such things as vaccines in this time period, millions and millions of years ago.

"What do they eat when they can't get human blood?" grumbled Frank as they trudged onto a spot of solid ground before it became marshy again. At the back of the line, Percy silently cracked a smile.

By the end of the day, Percy's face was covered with bites and welts. Although he cracked up at the sight of the others, Percy couldn't help but wonder what his own face looked like.

They set up camp on one of the only solid ground patches, spreading out their sleeping bags (which were in desperate need of washing). After starting a small fire with twigs and leaves, the nine started to relax.

Thalia studied herself in the reflection of her long hunting knife, one hand clutching a piece of bread.

"I think I look even better with these bites," she commented, grinning at Percy, who was rearranging his own sleeping bag. "You know…more punk style." Thalia held out half a piece of bread. "You wanna share?"

Percy took it. "Our food supply is running low, you know? And Zeus knows when we're going to reach a village with actual food."

"I suppose we can hunt," Annabeth said, joining the two, her face covered in bites as well.

Thalia snorted. "In this swamp?"

Annabeth laughed. "I guess not, but I think we're not far away from help. If the Watchtower of Amon Sûl is still there, then I guess there will be people. If not, I think the elf haven of Rivendell is near. I think we'll last until then. Anyways, if our food supply really runs out, we can always hunt for frogs and lizards."

Percy and Thalia both pretended to gag at Annabeth's suggestion of frogs and lizards.

"How far is Rivendell?" asked Percy, shoving the last of his bread down his mouth.

"Oh, maybe eleven or twelve days away?" Annabeth shrugged. "I don't know."

"I thought you were the one who read about this place?" Percy inquired.

"Well, yes, but parts of the story were lost, and I never got to the end; like Chiron said, it was too long. Three books, Percy; no way I would spend years of my life trying to read three _English _books on what I thought were fictional lands and beings. Plus, I don't even know if the map Chiron gave us was precise. I mean, I'm pretty sure we would've passed this village called Bree by now, but we haven't."

Thalia rummaged in her pack, which was sitting next to her knife. Carefully, she unrolled it.

"So where are we now, Annabeth?"

"Annabeth studied the map, tracing her finger from the spot that read _Shire_ across another section titled _The Old Forest_ and finally stopping near a place without a label. But a couple centimeters away, a hill read: _Amon Sûl._

"I think we're somewhere here…" she muttered, almost to herself. After a few seconds, Annabeth traced her finger over to an area near a range of mountains, which read: _Rivendell._

"Yes. In about four days or so, we should reach Rivendell. In about a day or so, we should reach the Watchtower. It's very close. And if someone's there, then we can get more supplies."

"Awesome," muttered Thalia, yawning widely. Percy smirked at her.

"Let's get some sleep," Annabeth recommended, standing up and handing the map back to Thalia, who shoved it back into her bag roughly, causing more cracks to appear. "I'll take first watch."

Gratefully, Percy sank onto his sleeping bag, prepared to rest after a long day of trudging through the mud. Of course, "rest" didn't come easily when you were a demigod; Percy had a fitful dream that night. He was on the edge of a chasm, standing over the edge and looking into its depths, still wearing his Camp Half-Blood shirt and jeans. Hot air blasted his hair back while the gaping pit in front of him seemed to laugh. Somehow, Percy knew this was the Endless Pit.

"_Come down here, little hero,"_ muttered a voice, filled with cruelty and malice, like metal against stone, like the hoarse sound of a snake choking. _"If you fail…then of course, your future will be destroyed…along with your little Western Civilization."_

"Liar!" Percy spat back at the voice. He tried to run away, but his legs were locked tight, glued to the ground. So instead of running away, Percy decided to taunt the voice. He couldn't get hurt in a dream, could he? "You're a coward! Why don't you come _out_ and face me like a _real_ warrior?"

Something from the depths hissed in annoyance. _"I am not a warrior. I am_the_warrior–I am the_only_real warrior, the Dark Lord. You cannot hide from my Eye… In Mordor, far away, my armies are gathering again… Men will bow down to me one by one, and one by one, I will destroy them. No one–but me–can resist the power of the One Ring. Not even the elves resisted it."_

Percy tried to step back again but failed.

"_Your Ring-bearer now is about to become mine, and someone must take over in order to bring my weapon into my hands again."_

It took Percy three seconds to realize that voice was talking about Reyna. About to become his… What did that mean?

"I will not work for you," Percy said in a steely voice.

"_That is not for you to decide. All men will work for me, and you, Perseus Jackson, will be my pawn."_

"A back-stabbing pawn then. Gee, I'm so used to being used as pawns by evil people, huh?"

If there was one person who didn't understand the definition of verbal irony, it was Sauron. He chuckled at the thought before saying, _"Now let me test your resilience to my power…no men has ever resisted it. I doubt you will be able to."_

Something felt hot in Percy's hand, and he looked down to see a gold band appearing–the Ring. It quivered on the palm of his hand, and for a second, Percy was mesmerized by its beauty. He wanted desperately to put it on his finger, to feel all that power flowing through his body. Who said Sauron was the Ring's only master? Chiron was wrong; Percy could channel the Ring's power just fine. It came to him through the lava; it _chose_ him. There was no harm in just slipping it on for a second, to get a taste of its power. If Percy owned this Ring, he could control the world. Re-model it with Annabeth so there would be no more war or fights, no more crimes, no more homework. The thought was absolutely tempting, and for a second, Percy wanted it badly.

And yet…

Another side of his brain screamed at him for being so stupid. He couldn't put the Ring on; it would be suicide. He needed to listen to Chiron, Chiron who guided him from the time when he first set foot in Camp Half Blood.

He didn't listen.

Percy jammed the Ring onto his finger, and immediately, the world darkened. He saw a flaming ball of fire coming at him, growing larger and larger, but it wasn't a ball of fire at all. It was an eye, wreathed in scorching hot flames, lidless, and with a thin slit as a pupil. Percy stifled a scream. The Eye's gaze felt terrible, burning into his soul and flesh. Behind the eye, Percy saw nine figures, cloaked in black–the Ringwraiths.

Sauron's voice rumbled with laughter from the pit. _"See? You cannot hide from me nor resist the power of the Ring, weak one… Prepare to die, Perseus. When your death comes, it will be painful. I promise you that."_

Percy bit his tongue from making a smart comment about just how many times he had heard that. The gaping pit grew wider and wider, like a mouth opening to swallow prey. Percy wanted to run away, but his legs were glued and shackled to the ground. He closed his eyes in horror as the gaping pit swallowed him, pulling him down…down…down.

"Percy!" cried a voice.

Percy bolted upright to see a concerned Hazel peering into his eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You were muttering in your sleep and thrashing around. It's your watch anyways, so I decided to wake you."

"I-I had a bad dream; that's all." He knew Hazel didn't buy it, but she didn't press.

It took Percy almost a full minute to get out of his sleeping bag. He was cold and clammy, and sweat glistened on his brow. He muttered something to Hazel about getting some rest before picking up Riptide and patrolling the area, sword out for light as there was none yet. It was just a dream, but when you were a demigod, dreams were never just plain old dreams. They foretold the future, took you into the past, and of course, gave you nightmares. This nightmare had been one of the worst since the Giant War. Sauron's words echoed in his mind.

_Your Ring-bearer now is about to become mine._

What could that possibly mean? Percy glanced at Reyna, sleeping with one hand on her dagger, the Ring safely tucked away into her shirt. Did that mean Reyna would betray them? Percy shook his head. No. Reyna was not the type of person. Although Percy hadn't talked with Reyna all that much, he was sure she would die before handing the weapon to the enemy. That was not possible.

Percy shuddered, remembering the other threats of Sauron.

_And you, Perseus Jackson, will be my pawn. Prepare to die, Perseus. When your death comes, it will be painful. I promise you that._

He had been told that multiple times before, but for some reason, Percy believed Sauron to be much, much more threatening than Gaea, the original owner of that particular threat.

'_Well,' _Percy promised himself. _'If I am to die, I will die defending Camp Half-Blood; I'll die like a hero.'_

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**Oh, the foreshadowing…**


	8. Battle of Amon Sûl: Jason

**Thank you to all who reviewed, and thank you to every single nice Jasper shipper who did not taunt or bully the Jeyna shippers over their ship being canon. It's greatly appreciated by everyone in this fandom.**

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Battle of Amon Sûl: Jason

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JASON thought the journey to Amon Sûl wasn't hard. Two days of sunshine and the ending of the marsh made the journey much easier than what he expected. Despite this cheerful change, he was still bothered by the dreams he had almost every night. Every night, no matter how late or how early he slept, they were the same.

It started out okay–like he was walking through the woods, treading lightly on a well-worn path of dirt. Trees stood tall and wide around him, not like the sinister ones of the forest previously but welcoming trees that let light filter through their leaves. Moonlight would stream through the branches, casting shapes on the ground and forming into pools of silver. Crickets chirped and the wind blew, rustling the undergrowth. Soon, Jason would walk into a different section of the forest, dotted with blackened pine trees and needles carpeting the ground.

Then, he would hear a noise; somewhere along his walk, he would hear a scream. It sounded like wailing–not exactly like the sound Ringwraith made, but it sounded like a creature in pain. The blue-eyed boy would start running–faster and faster, until he burst out into a clearing covered with flattened grass, probably trampled on by the creature that had wailed. A pool shone in the moonlight, waters rippling gently across the surface, just on the edge of the clearing. Kneeling on the edge of the pond was a girl with jet-black hair–Reyna. Jason would recognize that hair anywhere.

"Reyna?" the son of Jupiter cautiously asked, stepping forward, cracking a twig underneath his sneakers.

She whipped around, and Jason lurched backwards. It wasn't the Reyna he knew–it couldn't be… Dark plates coated her face from view while evil, red eyes glinted under the metal, giving her a very sinister appearance. Her hair was no longer visible. As she reached out to help herself up, Jason saw black gloves, also coated with armor. As Reyna–or whoever the impersonator was–as she stood up, black smoke billowed from the ground, enveloping her. Soon, the smoke cleared away to reveal a Reyna in full silver battle armor, and a hood much too big. Metal plates covered every bit of skin, even her foot. Jason swallowed, and he knew what happened–she had turned into a Ringwraith.

The most recent dream added a small amendment to the usual routine. The night before, Jason had crouched against the trunk of a tree in fear as the creature advanced, weaponless and defenseless. Just as the Ringwraith was about to bring down his blade, a voice came from within the armor–Reyna's familiar voice, cracked with pain.

"I am human. I am _human. I am HUMAN!_"

Her voice repeated those three words over and over, chanting them, each word getting more and more desperate, louder and louder with every syllable.

The Ringwraith started to wither, robes falling apart and metal armor denting itself here and there. Jason heard Reyna scream in pain, and in a blinding flash, her body fell to the ground, right where the Nazgul once stood, about to kill Jason. Quickly, the Roman bent down to find a pulse, but he found none.

Reyna was dead.

"Jason!"

A voice snapped him to reality. Someone pulled him back.

"You nearly crashed into a tree," grunted Frank, the person pulling Jason back. "Watch where you're going or you'll get a nice-sized lump on your head."

Jason shook his head–no time to get distracted because of one silly dream.

"Look!" Piper shouted two seconds after Jason nearly walked into that tree, pointing at the horizon. Jason squinted to see where she was pointing at, and his heart raced. Outlined against the setting sun and set on a hill was a great ring–almost like a pyramid and somewhat like a coliseum. A couple of trees blocked their view from seeing the Watchtower clearly, but it was the Watchtower nonetheless, and if some humans were there, then they would have more food and supplies.

"This is awesome," muttered Leo. "It looks so funny!"

Jason cracked a smile at his comment but kept walking forwards. Next to Percy, Annabeth frowned.

"What's wrong?" asked Jason, catching her expression.

"The Watchtower… It shouldn't be like that. If they rebuilt it after the war, then it should be more…upright." Annabeth shook her head. "It's probably just weathering or the sun. Let's go."

Jason wasn't convinced, and he shot Percy a look, but Percy just shrugged in response and whispered, "She knows best."

After practically running towards the Weathertop of Amon Sûl, the demigods found bitter disappointment waiting. Instead of a tower standing high and tall, they found a pile of crumbling rubble, the walls barely holding up. No sign of any civilization anywhere.

"What happened?" whispered Hazel, voicing what they were all thinking.

"Why is this in ruins? I thought there would be people here…" Thalia added.

"I don't know what happened. I thought after the war, they rebuilt this place," Annabeth said, her dark gray eyes stormy. "What happened?" Jason thought everyone would've liked to know the answer to that.

"It's worth it to investigate," Reyna commanded. "Nightfall is near as well, and we must find a place to rest for the night. Come."

The nine hitched their packs and started up the hill towards the Watchtower. As they neared the ruins, Jason saw marks indicating a battle. Broken weapons littered the ground – spear and arrow heads, hilts of swords, tips of lances, shards of steel. There were angry red marks on the stone littering the hillside as if a fire had once burned brightly, scorching and destroying. A full helmet sat on one side, the top caved in as if someone had struck a hammer on top while a battle horn rested on the side, cloven in two.

"What happened?" asked Percy again.

"Look!" Hazel was standing on the edge of a stone staircase that was still solid. Jason looked up to where the staircase led to and saw that it was big hunk of flat rock, sitting on top of the rubble. There was some distance from where the staircase crumbled as well to the flat rock, but Jason thought it was a good place to camp.

"It's a nice place to camp," he told the others, voicing his thoughts before starting to climb up the stairs, which thankfully held. The others followed rather reluctantly.

At the top, the nine saw what Amon Sûl once might've been. Even with great chunks of stone gone, you could still see the architecture of the whole structure. In the center, another staircase led down to a lower level, which probably crumbled already. Slabs of stone had rectangular holes in them, littered here and there. It struck Jason that the flat rock he was standing on was probably the topmost level.

They made camp almost immediately, tired to the bone after a day of half-running and half-walking towards the ruins of a Watchtower. Annabeth tried to keep everyone's spirits up by telling them they were close to Rivendell, home of the elves. Jason hoped she wasn't wrong this time.

In the middle of the night, Jason was shook awake by Piper. "It's your watch," she whispered. "It's the last one."

Jason nodded his thanks before crawling out of his sleeping bag. The fire Leo had made crackled in the night, a swirl of reds, yellows, and oranges, sending sparks flying every now and then. It made Jason a lot warmer in the cold night air. Dawn was approaching, but even so, the chills of the night hung like dew onto grass.

Suddenly, Jason stood up, grabbing his _gladius._ A movement from below had caught his eye, something stirring in the shadows. He squinted, trying to define the shape of the figure. When he did, the answer made Jason's blood run cold. Oh no…

It was a Ringwraith, and just when Jason thought the situation couldn't have been worse, four more stepped out from under different shadows. The Ringwraith made a formation and started advancing towards the Watchtower, on foot, as silent as shadows. Maybe because of the ADHD, but Jason wondered if Pluto was modeled after these unholy creatures.

Crap. It was the fire that attracted them; Jason was sure of it. He stamped it out quickly, but grabbed one burning branch, remembering his lesson previously in the forest, one hand still on his sword.

"Wake up!" he shouted to his friends. "We're under attack!"

Those magic words had everyone up and ready in an instant, Reyna being the first. She leapt from her sleeping bag and stood up, eyes wild.

The Riders were moving swiftly now.

"Pack up! Now before they come!" Reyna commanded, unsheathing her dagger.

People were already scrambling to pack their things up. One by one, each sleeping bags were rolled up handed to their owners. Packs of food were thrown into backpacks, which were slung over shoulders just as fast just in time as the first Ringwraith had reached the stairs by the time camp was packed, climbing it slowly, sword in one hand.

"BACK!" Jason screamed, throwing the torch he had in one hand at the Ringwraith. He caught on fire, screeching an unholy screech, making Jason cower.

The other four started up the staircase. Jason reached for another branch, but the he had forgotten that the fire had died out already.

He looked at Leo for help, but Leo mouthed back '_I'm trying! It won't work.'_

The first Ringwraith pointed his sword tip at Reyna. Jason felt his blood rise to his head. If that monster wanted to hurt her, he'd have to go through him. The one behind the first raised his sword, and in harmony, so did the remaining two.

Jason brought his sword down to meet his enemy's. The clash echoed in his ears, hurting his eardrums. An arrow whistled through the air, piercing a Nazgul where his heart should've been, but the Black Rider merely pulled it out of his heart, tossed it aside, and continued to advance. Jason parried one of his strikes. And another. And another…

He realized he was being pushed backwards towards the edge of the flat rock. One more step, and Jason would be falling to his death. If Leo's powers didn't work, then who knows if Jason's will?

Suddenly, a muffled scream came to Jason's ears.

Both he and the Nazgul spun around, looking for the source–or sensing rather for the black, cloaked Ringwraith.

What he found nearly made Jason's heart stop. It was Reyna, lying on the rock, hands clenched and teeth gritted, blood blossoming from a wound on her thigh.

If Nazguls could grin, the one standing over her could. He reached down to rip the chain from her neck, but with the last of her strength, Reyna pulled it away. The Nazgul hesitated, as if thinking, and raised his blade right above Reyna's heart, evidently preparing for her death.

Jason glanced around wildly, but all the other demigods were occupied with their own Ringwraith.

"Out of the way," he snarled at his own wraith, pushing it aside. Caught by surprise, the Nazgul fell over the edge, tumbling down to the ground with yet another unholy screech.

However, Jason did not have the time to rejoice at his victory; he charged at Reyna's attacker, mind blank, the only thought in his head was the message to protect her from harm. One line from the prophecy echoed in his mind. One shall feel the Nazgul's blade…

The Ringwraith started to swing his sword down.

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**I am completely rubbish when it comes to writing action scenes. Please forgive me for that and excuse all the possible grammar errors; writing when you are sick is very hard even though that's hardly a proper excuse.**


	9. Sorceress of the Golden Wood: Reyna

**Reviewers are greatly appreciated; a warm thank you goes to all who took their time to submit their feedback, positive or negative. Your input will be taken into account.**

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Sorceress of the Golden Wood: Reyna

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REYNA was fending off one of the Nazguls when he whipped out a new blade, using his other sword to fend off Reyna's dagger. While she was occupied with one of the blades, fending off the swings and stabs, the cloaked Ringwraith jabbed his other blade at her thigh.

Pain coursed through her body, eating at her flesh and gnawing at her bone, poison flowing through her blood and spreading all over like an infection. Reyna had been injured multiple times in battle before, but nothing was comparable to the pain she was getting now. Nothing.

_'__Kill me now,'_ she thought, falling to the ground, half blinded by pain. '_Death has to be better than this.'_

Her dagger clattered out of her hand, clanging against the marble. Reyna immediately tried to grab for it without luck. A scream crept up to her throat, threatening to come out. Through her pain, Reyna distinctly saw a hooded figure bending down over her, a metal incased hand creeping its way towards her neck, where the ring was, unguarded and vulnerable.

_'__No! No! He can't have it! I can't fail, not now!'_

Reyna jerked the ring away from the Nazgul, pulling it away. The Ringwraith hesitated, and then, he raised his sword for the kill.

_'__I'm going to die anyway on this quest,'_ she thought, closing her eyes and preparing for the worst. _'There is no hope. Chiron and everyone else took this risk. I am going to die, and I know it. I knew even before the quest started.'_

A clash of swords echoed through the air. With the last of her strength, the daughter of Bellona opened her dark eyes just a fraction to see someone with short blond hair battling the cloaked figure, brow furrowed with concentration.

"Jason! Retreat! They're calling for reinforcements!"

Reyna tried to turn her head to see who yelled, but the blinding pain prevented her from doing that. It was spreading quickly now; all of her left leg–the one that had been stabbed–was on fire along with most of her right leg. She felt nothing below the waist. How long would it take for the infection to spread to her heart and kill her?

Strong arms grabbed onto Reyna's bloodstained body, lacing themselves around Reyna's neck and legs. A grunt followed as gravity lost its hold. Was she freefalling to her death?

Darkness closed in as the daughter of Bellona closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time.

Reyna woke up with the brightly shining sun above her head in a meadow with fresh green grass, carpeted with flowers and birds chirping overhead. She could here the sound of a rippling brook somewhere very close and nearby, and a faint breeze filled the air from all sides. Her left leg was no longer bleeding, and when Reyna checked, there was only a hole in her jeans, no gash spewing blood underneath.

"Am I dead?" she mused to herself.

"No," replied a voice.

Reyna whipped around, her hand reaching for her dagger, which wasn't there. Realizing this, she faced the voice, taking in the newcomer.

She was beautiful–comparable to Venus–there was no doubt about that, but yet there was a regal air around her along with something Reyna had not felt for a long time, not since Circe's island–sorcery. Silvery-blond hair cascaded down her back, rippling across her elegant shoulders, an intricate crown made of gold set upon her cap of blonde. White scandals laced her feet, and her grey-blue eyes resembled galaxies, bright and shining. A silver dress with long, drooping sleeves swished in the wind, hiding her hands from view. The woman's nose was set high; lips thin and curved into what seemed like a warm smile, but to someone as observant as the daughter of Bellona, the smile was only a mask over sorrow and terrible yet controlled power. Her ears… Was Reyna hallucinating? Why were her ears pointy? Were they even real?

Reyna looked on warily. This person reminded her of Circe.

"You are not dead, Reyna."

"Who are you?"

The lady smiled again, but this time, it was out of amusement. "I have many titles–The Lady of Lórien, Lady of Light, Storm Queen, Lady of the Galadhrim, White Lady, Sorceress of the Golden Wood, or The Lady of the Wood–they all refer to me nonetheless. However, my real name is Galadriel."

"And how do you know _me?"_

"I have watched you for a long time, Reyna. Ever since you were born, I have watched you. I knew you were destined to be a Ring-Bearer for a long time. We are not so different from each other–you and I. We are both Ring-Bearers, destined either for greatness or for great sorrow, sometimes perhaps both. I wear and present to you Nenya, the Ring of Adamant."

There was something in her voice Reyna heard–perhaps uncertainty, but the Lady of Light quickly regained her composure.

"Remember, my dear, I am immortal without this Ring, but this Ring gives me power, which I choose to use for the well-being of others." Galadriel extended her hand. Wrapped around her middle finger, a silver band with a flower design in the middle sat. It radiated power, not the kind Reyna felt from the One Ring she had–but gentle power yet also that of a ruler who commands with an immutable iron fist.

"I have seen many things, both great and terrible, and I have been tempted to use those terrible things for what appeared to be great dreams."

Reyna jumped. The voice wasn't coming from Galadriel anymore; instead, it was inside her head. Turning to the lady, Reyna saw that Galadriel's eyes were fixed on her with great intensity, galaxies starting to swirl quicker.

"Should you fail, then all of Middle Earth and what is left of the kingdom of Men shall fall. Only you have the power to unite them. By doing so, you stand a chance against Sauron, but also by doing so, you stand alone."

"But men _are_ united."

"In your world perhaps," Galadriel said out loud. "But not here. Here, the Kingdom of Men is in ruins, one pitted against another, a world filled with betrayal, unjust, war, and bloodshed. It has been this for a long time. The time of the elves is long over, my people have left these shores already, their footprints erased and washed away. All the Ring-Bearers with knowledge and wisdom has parted this world along with them. The fate of Middle Earth lies in the hands on Men and only Men. You are not weak like the others, and for that, you stand alone."

"I don't want to stand alone, and I'm definitely not," Reyna replied. "I have friends, and they give me hope."

Galadriel looked at the young girl with a curious expression, mixed with pity. "You bear a Ring of Power, Reyna. If you are to bear a Ring of Power, you are to be alone."

Reyna opened her mouth to reply, but she closed it.

A sense of urgency filled Galadriel's tone. "Your spirit fades quickly; journey to Rivendell to find help, and seek assistance from the captain of Gondor. You are regaining consciousness once more. Remember that I cannot help you, and I cannot return to Middle Earth. However, in your dreams, I will guide you. Remember that, Reyna. You are returning to your fate, to your origins. Be warned…"

Reyna opened her mouth to ask Galadriel yet another question, but before that happened, the vision of the meadow and the Lady of Light faded away.

She choked. The burning pain was back, searing through her body. Chest heaving, Reyna opened her eyes and shuddered at the effort it took even to do that. A pair of electric blue eyes peered down at her, concerned.

"You're awake," said the familiar voice.

Reyna's throat felt dry, her skin feverish and hot.

"We're close to Rivendell now. Just hang on…"

Someone with curly blond hair appeared behind Jason–Annabeth. He turned around to face the daughter of Athena.

"Should I give her more nectar?"

"No, Jason. I told you already. The wound shouldn't heal when there's still Nazgul poison in there, and I've said before–" Annabeth interrupted as Jason opened to protest. "The Nazgul are more than monsters. We don't know if nectar and ambrosia will work. If the gash heals but the poison is still in there, then…" Annabeth trailed off.

"What happens?"

Annabeth took a step back.

"Tell us! Reyna has a right to know what she's up against."

Annabeth licked her lips. "Well, I thought these were myths, but I studied the monsters of this place especially because…well, I wanted to find out new ways to kill the monsters in our world, and while I was reading, I came across this passage that said that…"

"Yes?" Jason prompted, leaning forward.

Despite her condition, Reyna held onto Annabeth's every word.

"It said that whoever was stabbed with the blade of a Ringwraith would eventually turn into one themselves unless they received special healing, which is unavailable at the moment."

It took a long time for the horror of those words to sink in.

Jason whirled around, meeting her eyes. Reyna tried to send him the message: '_I'm not worth it. Kill me now before I kill all of you!'_

"There's still hope though," continued Annabeth, twirling her hair in a nervous way. "The elves of Rivendell do have this treatment we need."

Reyna could almost sense the spark ignite in Jason's heart. She wanted to shout at the son of Jupiter to not let his hopes up, but she couldn't find the energy to. If what Annabeth said was true–which probably _was_ true–then it would've been a hundred times safer to just kill her.

"Let's go then! Come on!"

_'__No…'_ Reyna thought. '_No, no, no. There is no hope for me; stop dreaming, you stupid, stupid boy.'_

But another side of her said that there was no way to change Jason's mind once it was made.

And as if reading her mind, Jason whispered, "We're going to Rivendell for supplies anyway. We must bring you along. There's still hope for you. Please, Reyna." Jason voice was filled with desperation. "I can't lose you."

His words triggered a memory in the back of Reyna's head. Hadn't Galadriel said something similar?

_Your spirit fades quickly; journey to Rivendell to find help, and seek assistance from the captain of Gondor._ Did _she_ believe that there was still hope for Reyna? _You are not weak like the others._

_'__No, I'm not,'_ Reyna thought, settling for that.

She locked her eyes onto Jason's and took all the strength left in her body to whisper into his ear, "You are a stupid, stupid boy," before darkness took over again.

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**This is ridiculous; I teared up while I wrote this chapter because of a future chapter I'm going to write, and then all the feels came back, and… Yeah, I'm very emotional, especially when it comes to sad stories and ships.**


	10. A Ringwraith Chase: Percy

**I'm sorry for the crap, it's been such a long time since I've even attempted a new chapter at this story. I have a life, and it's not in my favor. My writing style has also changed a lot over the few months, and the previous chapters have all been heavily edited to fit that style or make it somewhat closer, just for the sake of consistency. It's also another excuse as to why I haven't been updating recently.**

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A Ringwraith Chase: Percy

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PERCY couldn't believe it.

Reyna getting injured and screaming in pain was the same thing as saying the world was going to flip upside-down or Hades signing up to voice for My Little Pony. To make a long lesson short, the words "Reyna" and "injury" did not exist in the same sentence. After all, the daughter of Bellona had fought a giant, took care of hundreds for eight months, and survived as many quests as he had.

_'__It wasn't from the lack of skill that the Ringwraith managed to stab her,'_Percy reminded himself. _'If she dies…'_

He cut off that thought abruptly. What would Jason do if Reyna passed away? They might be blinded to the fact, but pretty much everyone could see they had feelings for each other. What would become of their quest, their leaderless quest? No, Percy could not afford to think like that. He had to believe that Rivendell was close by. He had to believe that the elves possessed some magic healing herb or potion that would cure a wound in a matter of seconds. He had to believe the quest still had a chance, however narrow it was.

The son of the sea glanced around him. The trees rustled in the wind, carrying some whispers of a nameless fear. Grass rippled in the breeze. Moonlight collected in pools of silver, and the rock he sat on felt smooth and cold.

"Troubled?" asked a voice.

Percy shot up, Riptide in his hands, eyes scanning the forest around and in front of him for any signs of movement.

"Who are you?" he called out.

"Hush, child. I am not here to hurt you."

_'__The voice is female,'_ thought Percy, lowering his sword by the tiniest fraction. It sounded like a melody, the tones of a forgotten song, light and warm yet also low and imploring, like the magic spell a temptress may cast.

"I am here to help," the voice continued.

"Help? Help with what?" Percy found himself becoming more and more interested despite his instinct and his suspicion.

A breeze rustled through the forest, and Percy thought he heard a soft chuckle respond.

"You know what you need help with," the voice continued.

Somewhere near, a distressed voice called, "Percy! Percy! Where are you?"

Percy's head snapped in the direction of his friend's call, realizing how long he had spent in that section of the forest, thinking, hidden away from the others. Abandoning the melodic voice he was having a conversation with, he tore through the undergrowth, running back to camp.

"Percy…" called the melody, slowly fading, the notes of a song coming to a diminish. "This may seem strange to you now, but when time comes, seek the light and take the burden. The Ring came to you. It _chose_ you." She said the word "light" with a flourish, as if it was the most valuable thing in the world, as if the weight of the world depended on it, which is probably did.

"What do you mean?" cried Percy, frustrated and angry. He had played with riddles all throughout his life–prophecies from gods, riddles and green smoke from oracles, mysterious predictions from augurs murdering pillow pets. Sending him on another quest to a totally new environment with nothing but another vague prophecy and some hints from a mysterious voice was crossing the line.

Percy, of course, was not one to stay in one place and muse on matters like how his life sucked. Quickly, he spun around and sprinted away, his mind still buzzing.

When Percy arrived back at his friends' temporary camp, his jeans in tatters from the undergrowth, Piper was waiting for him, her eyes grim, shifting from one color to another, the slow rotation of a kaleidoscope.

"What's happening?" asked Percy.

"We're moving out," replied the daughter of Aphrodite swiftly. "According to Annabeth, Reyna is fading quickly. She needs help–fast; Jason's throwing a fit."

Percy smiled and patted Piper on her shoulder. Ever since he met her, the black-haired boy had felt like a brother to Piper. Maybe it was the fact that he was the leader at Camp Half-Blood, but Percy didn't think so. He felt some strong bond towards the daughter of Aphrodite, something he just couldn't explain. That didn't, however, stop Percy from reproving her at certain times, times where even she forgot that the world was more important than their friends. Nonetheless, they got along fine, and Percy was disappointed when Piper joined the Hunt instead of staying at Camp Half-Blood. However, in a dangerous, close to suicidal quest they've embarked on, getting along and teamwork were of utmost importance.

Now as Percy ran through the forest, Riptide casting a bronze glow on the dancing leaves, quivering in the wind, he thought about the other members of the quest. The son of the sea didn't get to bond with half of them as much as he would've liked, especially with the said leader of the quest.

His breath quickened with every step he ran, a growing pain in his side as they splashed through a river, feet slipping on mossy and wet rocks and cold water seeping into his tennis shoes.

A cold filled the air as he ran on, a shiver running down his spine and chilling his bones. An unearthly and disorienting scream echoed in the distance, and Percy realized the Ringwraith were still nearby, still calling for reinforcements and plotting future attacks on the nine demigods.

_'__No,'_ Percy decided. He would not let those demented Death Eater Wannabes hurt any more members of the quest. He had fallen into the darkest pit in the Underworld and came out alive; not being able to handle these creatures seemed like a major disappointment.

Twigs whipped at his face, and branches hung with an ominous gloom, trees pressing together as if trying to block the way, their roots lurking in the shadows, trying to trip unwary travelers. Percy cursed as his foot caught on one of them, but he ran on to keep up with the others.

"Percy, hurry!" cried Annabeth, slowing down and pulling him by the hand. The thundering of hooves drew closer and closer with each passing second, a sinister pounding of gloating war drums.

"We have to hold them off," Percy panted as he ran alongside the daughter of Athena. "Give the others time to go. Make it to Rivendell."

"No, Percy. We're staying as a group. Even if we do hold them off, how will we regroup? I don't think you're going to find Rivendell alone."

Almost exasperatedly, Percy shot a glance at the blonde. He saw a fire dancing in her eyes, a clear message: _You will not risk your life for me or anyone else; do you understand?_

Percy didn't get a chance to respond for at that moment, the first Nazgul came into view, a triumphant fire flickering in the horses' eyes. He could almost taste their excitement.

Riptide connected with a metal blade faster than the black-haired boy could blink; his instinctive reflexes saved him.

"No…" Percy growled, swinging his sword from a different angle, his legs scrambling over themselves.

Three more wraiths appeared into view. Percy figured the cloaked figures must've split up trying to find them. Maybe all nine were on their trail. Maybe not. He sure didn't know how evil men or their minds worked, and he sure didn't want to find out anytime soon.

Suddenly, Frank, who was ahead of everyone else yelled, "Duck sideways!"

Percy didn't know what that was all about, but he trusted his friend; he ducked sideways into the trees, dragging Annabeth along with him. A few seconds later, he saw exactly why. A crevice snaked its way through the middle of their road, a vast gaping crack in the dirt and soil, the wide, yawning mouth of Gaea. If Percy stood at the edge, he had a feeling Riptide would not show the bottom. It gave him uncomfortable memories, memories of Tartarus.

The four Nazgul hurtled past, promptly tripping over the edge, each falling down with their horse, one by one, screeching in shock, oblivious to the fact their victims were now hiding in the trees and crouching among the shrubbery. Percy distinctly recalled that the creatures did not die; as long as evil existed, they existed as well–big bummer in their current situation.

After a long time where all the demigods stared in shock at the outcome of their chase, Leo piped up, "Do you think Sauron would be as easily cliffed?"

The nine stared at him for a while before bursting into fits of laughter, and for a while, they couldn't stop. It felt great and relieving to laugh after being chased by a group of cloaked demons. Even Jason smiled and chuckled dryly, his shirt stained with Reyna's blood.

"Hush," Piper commanded after a couple seconds of laughter passed. "I hear something."

"Oh, yes!" Leo added. "Your ears are filled with the bonging of drums and Native American ritual music." He did a weird one-footed dance before receiving a smack upside the head from Piper.

"She's right," Hazel added, cocking her head to listen.

The others quieted down considerably, listening to the chirping sound of crickets. After straining his ear for a while, Percy heard it. It sounded like the harmony of bells and xylophones, sweet and soft. He couldn't place a finger to what the sound was, but it did sound familiar yet foreign and the same time.

Annabeth spoke, her eyes bright. "It's the sound of water." She turned towards Percy excitedly. "It's a river! In fact, it's not just any river; it's an Elvish river."

Percy didn't know how that was really good news because he sure didn't want to get his feet any colder, but he understood why Annabeth was so happy when she continued, "If I'm correct, beyond the river is the haven of the elves."

They were close.

At last.

In that second, Percy's spirits lifted considerably. Perhaps there was a chance for the daughter of Bellona after all; perhaps there was still was a chance for their whole quest. Maybe…just maybe, with the help of the elves, their quest could succeed.

_'__Whoa there…'_ thought the pessimist part of Percy's brain. _'You're getting ahead of yourself here. Just concentrate on surviving today.'_

He started to walk towards the sound of the river with renewed hopes.

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**I appreciate each and every single review, and they will all be taken into account quite seriously. Thank you once again for putting up with this horrid chapter with its absolutely horrid ending.**


	11. The Meeting of Calmicil: Jason

**Thank you to all reviewers; I'm quite glad most of you like the new portrayal of Piper. I own the two original characters that will appear below, and I will definitely not let it go if I see you stealing them; after all, they are my favorite self-created characters.**

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The Meeting of Calmicil: Jason

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JASON was an idiot–no point in trying to deny it. What was he thinking? Did he expect friendly elves to greet him when the demigods arrived? No, he should've expected some sort of trick, some sort of trap, at least some sort of _defense._ After all, who wouldn't want their home to be protected and safe? The entrance of Rivendell was not grand like one might've expected–merely a cliff cloven down the middle with bushes dotted here and there. According to Annabeth, they were in the right place. However, when the bows loomed out from behind boulders, Jason shouldn't have been surprised. He should've prepared for it.

"Hold!" cried a voice.

A figure emerged from behind a boulder, cloaked with green, hood drawn, a bow and arrow ready. He chuckled softly as the demigods drew their weapons.

"If I were you, I would not draw your swords. You are no more than children, and I have a host of men at my call."

He lowered his bow, and the bows and arrows protruding from bushes and boulders also disappeared. The man in green turned away. "Bring them in for questioning."

"Wait!" Jason stumbled forward, somewhat conscious of how he looked, covered in grime and dirt, probably a couple twigs in his hair. "We're just travelers. Innocent travelers."

The man turned his head sideways, his hood covering half his face. A hoarse laugh escaped from his throat. "There are no _innocent_ travelers, young child. You are travelers nonetheless, are you not? You have some purpose to travel otherwise you would have stayed where you were before your long march from home. By the laws of my people and the rules of common sense, I cannot trust you without questioning."

Someone walked up behind the man, also cloaked though the cape was a darker shade of green. "Captain Calmicil."

"Yes, Vamilon?"

"Ithilien calls for aid. Strange creatures have attacked."

"Please," interrupted Jason. "If you will not help us, at least help her."

Up until that point, he hadn't even realized how tight he clutched Reyna, as if she was his lifeline. Her eyes were closed, her face pale, as if she was already a corpse. Jason was no fan of using puppy-dog eyes, but he gave it his best attempt, which was still pretty pathetic. The two men turned, their eyes landing on the injured daughter of Bellona.

"You can't just leave her to die," Piper added. "That's like cold-blooded murder."

"Captain?" inquired the other man, the one named Vamilon.

"Every hour we waste hastens the fall of Ithilien, but they are right. We cannot leave a child to torment and death, whether they are from the enemy or not. That is what sets the difference between Gondor and Mordor. While we kill only for defense and guilt, they kill for merely entertainment. They may leave children in the winter cold to die, but we will not. That is, my dear Vamilon, how we know we are above our foes."

"But captain… Ithilien."

The captain waved the remark aside. "Send out our men. You will stay here with me until they–" he jerked his head in Jason's direction "–have been questioned and treated. Oh, and call for the healer."

Jason didn't particularly like the word "treated."

"Come," commanded the captain. "Give the girl to our healer."

Unwillingly, Jason loosened his grip on Reyna's lifeless body. An aging man with a white beard and hooded eyes took her from his arms before walking away from the group.

The eight demigods followed Calmicil past the cliff entrance and into Rivendell. Despite his nervous state, Jason couldn't help but marvel at the Roman-like architecture, the seemingly impossible designs and positions of houses, small temple-like rooms and pavilions settled on cliffs, a huge house on rocky and slanted surfaces. Everything bore the sign of splendor and welcome, but the son of Jupiter also felt uneasy. It was not humans who made the graceful buildings, and it felt foreign and unfamiliar to him, just like how he felt when he first entered the Greek camp. Jason did not imagine elves like the man in front of him.

Calmicil lead the group over a bridge, wide enough only for one. A soft rippling river ran under the bridge, lapping over smooth rocks. Trees and other vegetation bloomed everywhere, from cliff crevices to the flat parts of the valley where other buildings stood. Again, it heightened Jason's suspicion. The man in front of him didn't seem like the kind of person to hold a passion for growing things. He glanced at his friends, and they, too, were marveling at the valley surrounding them on all sides.

Finally, after leading them up a set of marble stairs, Calmicil entered a sheltered building with spindly wooden chairs all over the floor. Little light shown through the windows lining the sides for the sun almost completely disappeared below the horizon.

"Sit," he commanded, sinking into one of the chairs himself. After the demigods were situated facing him, looking nervously at each other, the man spoke again, leaning forward. "What are your names? Speak quickly for death is marching to my lands."

The demigods glanced at each other, obviously wondering whether the man could be trusted or not.

"I-I'm Annabeth," answered the blonde, taking charge. "Annabeth, daughter of Athena."

"Well, Annabeth, since your friends do not wish to speak, will you speak for them?"

Annabeth nervously cleared her throat. "I'm sure they'll speak, sir. But this is Percy, son of Poseidon, Jason, son of Jupiter, Frank, son of Mars, Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Piper, daughter of Aphrodite, Leo, son of Hephaestus, and Hazel, daughter of Pluto." For every name she listed, Annabeth pointed at the indicated person.

Calmicil chuckled darkly from under his hood. "Queer names you bring. And who is your wounded friend?"

"Reyna, daughter of Bellona. She was stabbed by a Ringwraith."

"And what business would you have with a Nazgul?"

"None," replied the daughter of Athena. "We were running from them."

"Why were they chasing you then? Why did you encounter them at all for that matter?"

Annabeth hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying smoothly, "I don't know. We encountered them on the Weathertop."

Calmicil chuckled, throwing back his hood. In the dim light, Jason saw yellow-brown curls covering most of his face. Sky-blue eyes peered out from under the mass of hair, and a short beard stretched from one ear to another. He looked young, but also old. Young in age, but old in spirit, as if he had suffered from too much pain and knowledge. An air of suspicion and pride hung around the captain.

"Are you an elf?" Jason asked, the question tumbling from his mouth before he could stop it.

The captain laughed, amused. "I am no elf. There are no longer elves here in Rivendell. Those who accompany me are the men of Gondor, those whose are still loyal."

A hint of sadness crept into Calmicil's voice. Standing up, he crossed over to a window, looking out into valley. "A company who strike against those of Mordor is a friend of Gondor's. Where, may I ask, is your home? Your dialect sounds foreign to my ears. What drove you here to Rivendell?"

"W-we set out from the Shire," replied Annabeth. "And we wanted to help in the war. Our friend got stabbed, and the closest haven was Rivendell. I guess that's why we came here, not because we wanted to attack or spy on anything; we just came here for help."

Anyone could tell that only half of what Annabeth said was the truth.

"Help in the war?" inquired the man, turning from his window. "You are children, children of Men. Whether it is by your will or not, you cannot help in this war; it is no child's play. You have weapons, yes; I can see that."

Calmicil took a step closer to the demigods before asking again. "Tell me, Annabeth, daughter of Athena–tell me, any one of you, have you ever killed anyone?"

Annabeth lowered her eyes. "Yes," she whispered in reply.

"I will say only this in reply: killing grows on you, and it will soon devour you. Killing and war will make corpses of us all." Calmicil paused. "What do you know of this war?"

"We know there are monsters fighting your homeland, and an evil in the east stirs; Sauron is trying to come back. That's all we really know."

Another half-lie.

"That little knowledge will not take you far. Do you know, by any chance, _how_ Sauron is attempting to regain his form? His spirit and his essence of evil are tied to a ring. Surely you know of that?" When everyone nodded, Calmicil went on. "If Sauron is starting to come back, do you know what this means? It means the Ring of Power is also back. And if it were to fall into the wrong hands… Need I describe the consequences?"

No one said a word, but they were all thinking the same thing. _Did this man know about their quest?_

"The Nazgul sought you out. Ringwraiths are servants of Sauron; they only do his bidding. If he has told them to go seek the Ring, they will do so."

A silence followed.

"Annabeth," said the captain. "You are wise. Surely you know _someone _can see behind your words."

Annabeth was at a loss for words, a first for her.

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"I don't know yet. We just want to get it as far away from the Ringwraiths as possible."

"Dishonesty is not unheard of to my ears. Speak the truth."

The eight demigods shifted nervously in their chairs. Did Jason really want to reveal their secret to the captain? He didn't, but if they were to get out of Rivendell and continue with their quest, telling the truth was their only chance.

"We've set out to destroy it," answered Hazel before anyone else could.

"Destroy it? Did you know, Hazel, daughter of Pluto, nearly a century ago, a company of nine also set out to destroy the Ring? They cast it into the fires of Mount Doom, the one place where it could be destroyed. And now, years and years later, the Ring has returned. The Ring is tied to the forces of evil. As long as evil endures, it endures. It seeks to corrupt the hearts of Men. There is no way to destroy the Ring nor will I let anyone use it."

"But, captain," Percy countered. "What the nine didn't try is destroying the Ring from its roots. It might've been forged in Mount Doom, but its ores were not. If I destroy the Ring from where the gold was mined, I think not even the greatest evil could bring it back."

"You seem to know a great deal about the history of the Ring. Perhaps you would like to explain why you have so little knowledge of Middle Earth yet so much of the Ring."

Percy gulped.

'_Don't tell him! Make up some story or something. Anything but the truth,'_ Jason thought. Another part of his brain responded, _'But he can tell if we're being dishonest or not. And if we lie, he's going to think we work for Sauron, and then we'll be doomed. Doomed for sure this time.'_

"My friends and I…we don't come from Middle Earth," Thalia supplied nervously.

"Indeed. I can tell, daughter of Zeus," responded the captain.

"You probably won't believe us, but this is the truth. I can swear on my life what I say is not false. We don't come from this time period. We come from the future. A great war happened there not long ago, and many of our friends were killed. Back at home, we have a place where we challenge ourselves, trying to climb up a wall without being scalded by lava."

Jason couldn't help but notice Calmicil's interest in the lava wall.

"The Ring came to us through the lava, and our leader sent us here, to destroy it," Percy finished.

Was the man convinced? Did he think they were delusional? Was he going to let them go? Jason doubted it, but he remained silent.

"Please. Believe us."

After a long moment of silence, broken only by the sound of crickets, Calmicil looked up at the demigods, as if inspecting them. Sighing loudly, he made his way for the door with one command. "Follow me. We will see if you are telling the truth."

Maybe it was just Jason, but he didn't like the sound of that. Something Calmicil had said came back to him. It was almost a whole century after the first quest, but if that really was the case, how was Pippin, the mayor they met before they set out, still alive?

Shaking his head, the son of Jupiter followed the others out of the door.

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**Please accept my apology for all the grammar errors; I was in a rush to get this chapter up. That's hardly an acceptable excuse, but it is the truth.**


	12. Another Joins the Quest: Reyna

**I'm glad to see people enjoying my original characters, and I would like to thank each and every one of you who took the time to submit a review. It means a lot to me, getting all the feedback; flames will be proudly displayed. I would also like to apologize for the very late update; I have edited all the previous chapters to make them more acceptable, especially in terms of grammar.**

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Another Joins the Quest: Reyna

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REYNA woke up to the sound of chirping birds and the smell of plants, which immediately lead her to the conclusion that she was somewhere outdoors even before she opened her eyes. She also felt a flat surface beneath her, soft and comfortable, like a bed. For a moment, she thought that she might've survived the whole affair–getting stabbed by the Nazgul and all–and that she was safe in some haven the others found, but that was unlikely. The praetor wasn't one to dream on endless mazes of possibilities and hopes only to be let down by the truth.

'_It's over,'_ she thought. _'There's no way I can be alive, so that leaves only one possibility.'_

Slowly, the truth sank in. She was dead; there was nothing she could do about it, but that wasn't what bothered Reyna. She was content with death for she knew everyone and everything had to die some time or later. What she was discontent with was the fact that she failed her friends when they needed her; she failed the people in New Rome and Camp Jupiter, from the soldiers under her command to the little toddlers peering up at her with admiration in their eyes, safe in the haven of New Rome.

Reyna heaved a sigh, feeling a dead weight in her chest, still unwilling to open her eyes.

'_Maybe if I don't look, I can still dream that I am alive and with my friends.'_ The dark-haired girl chuckled to herself. _'But some time or later, I'll have to open my eyes.'_

The daughter of Bellona praised herself for being able to face the truth, no matter how horrific or dreadful it was. A small part in the back of her brain now wondered why it felt so difficult facing the truth of her own failure, her own death. Lupa once told her that death in battle was honorable. So why was it so hard now? Why was it so hard when she knew it was over, when she knew her life ended, defending her friends?

Groaning, Reyna pushed herself up into sitting position, rubbing her eyes. Blinking in the sunlight, the daughter of war looked around and observed her surroundings.

To her surprise, Reyna was actually sort-of indoors, contrary to her first prediction. Her bed, which consisted of a backless couch and pillows, stood in the center of what looked liked an extremely small circular temple set in a valley, with just enough space for her bed and a few small tables with a desk. Outside, Reyna saw sheer cliffs surrounding her from all sides; small Roman-like buildings nestled here and there with plenty of vegetation and the smell of autumn in the air. Was she in Elysium? Although the dark-eyed girl never visited the Underworld, she was pretty sure neither the Fields of Punishment nor the Asphodel Fields were as pleasant as the environment she was in now.

"What is this place?" she asked herself out loud, swinging her legs over the couch and standing up.

Reyna half-expected pain to flash up her left leg as she attempted to stand, but it felt normal. Glancing down, the praetor saw a long gash spreading across her jean leg, but the skin underneath showed no sign of damage except a pale red scar.

Reyna sighed and stepped out of her temple-like room, starting to explore. For the first time in her life, the black-haired girl didn't check herself for a dagger or some other weapon. You wouldn't need such things when you were dead.

The ground was uneven; it rose and it fell, but there was beauty in the way the earth leveled up and down. The sound of rippling water soothed her, and soon she came upon a river dividing the valley in two.

As the daughter of Bellona made her way across a narrow stone bridge stretching across the river, she kneeled, extending her hands down to the water before scooping up a handful of the clear liquid, splashing it on her face. It felt refreshing, and dying wasn't exactly the best way to keep someone alert and awake.

In time, the daughter of Bellona came to a small, circular pavilion set on the cliff side, an arrangement of shrubs and flowers surrounding the outside in a semicircle. To the opposite of the semicircle, a doorway led into the interior of what looked like a house.

However, the shape and architecture of the pavilion was not what caught Reyna's interest. As she neared the pavilion, she heard voices talking; it sounded like people arguing. Instincts kicking in, the daughter of Bellona ducked behind the shrubbery, listening to the voices with newfound excitement and curiosity.

"There is nothing more we can do for your leader," said a low voice. "We gave her all the medicine we have, used all the techniques we know of, and if she still does not show any signs of life by tomorrow, we will have to kill her before it's too late."

"I thought you said not killing the innocent children was what set you above your enemies," replied a more familiar voice, making Reyna's breath quicken.

"I also said that we would need to kill for defense, and necessary precautions must be taken. Do you know what happens to someone who is stabbed by a Nazgul, Jason, son of Jupiter? In due time, the said victim will without doubt turn into one themselves. Is this what you desire for your leader? To let her live the rest of her life as a demon, a servant for what she started out fighting?"

Silence followed the speech, and Reyna's heart raced. She was alive after all; she was listening to an actual conversation with actual people, people discussing whether or not to kill her.

"It's still not fair…" another voice whispered–Reyna recognized the owner as Hazel. "We came all this way to save her."

"I am sorry. I am truly very sorry for your loss, but there is nothing we can do."

"There is always _something_ you can do, Captain," Jason replied. "That's what she taught me; that's what _Reyna_ taught me. No matter how desperate or how hopeless the situation is, there is always something you can do to make the world a better place."

The voices were silent.

"We have to neutralize her, Jason, and I offer you my sincerest apology."

Reyna silently cursed herself for not bringing her dagger, even when she thought she was dead. Nonetheless, the daughter of Bellona stood up, facing the arguing voices.

"That won't be necessary," she said.

The Captain whirled around, unsheathing his sword, a long, double-sided blade with sharp edges. The sight of such a sword may have made monsters flee in terror, but Reyna stood her ground, eyes fixed on the Captain, who smiled and sheathed his sword upon seeing her.

On the opposite side of the pavilion, Reyna saw her friends smile, some wearing expressions of shock. Stepping over the shrubbery, the praetor gave her friends a small smile before turning her attention back to the Captain, who dipped his head.

"I am Calmicil," he greeted. "You must be Reyna."

"Yes, I am," she replied.

"Your companions have been telling me a lot about you in the days past."

"Is that so?"

Calmicil gave Reyna a look of amusement, his eyebrows twitching. "I can see why someone would want you to be their leader. You and I–we are not so different."

"I am nobody's leader for in the end, everyone makes their own choice, whether I approve of it or not," Reyna replied, casting a look over to her friends and facing them. "Who said I was the leader?"

"Um, well, you _are_ the leader of the quest and the Ring-Bearer," Jason supplied though he looked a little sheepish.

The daughter of Bellona whirled around to face Calmicil again before turning back to her friends. "You told him about our quest. You told him about the Ring. You told him everything, didn't you?"

"There was no other way around it, daughter of Bellona," Calmicil piped up. "Your friends could not find the heart to tell lies, which would lead to certain degrees of difficulty on whether or not we should heal your wound." He nodded at her thigh. "They seemed to think you were the only one who was fit to carry the Ring, and now I can see why. You have a great degree of resistance to evil; one who can fight the poison from a Nazgul blade has my highest respect and all my well-wishes."

"Speaking of the Ring," Reyna interrupted. "Where is it?"

"The Ring would have hastened your fall indeed," Calmicil supplied, walking towards the door on the other side of the pavilion, which lead into the interior of a house. "Come."

Reyna and the others followed the Captain into the house and along a dark hallway, adorned with many tapestries and statues, all elegant and beautiful in a way that wasn't human. Soon enough, the demigods arrived in a small room with only a statue of a young woman resting in the center. Set upon her stone hands was a plate made of the same material, and on top of the plate rested the Ring, a golden band with the silver chain attached, still intact.

"We figured this was the best place to put it until further notice," Calmicil said, watching as the praetor snatched it from the statue before slipping it around her neck, feeling the familiar weight dragging her down again.

"So tell me, Reyna, what is your plan?" asked the Captain after Reyna tucked the Ring under her shirt. "What are you going to do with the Ring?"

"Don't you know about our quest?" Reyna snapped back, turning around and briskly walking out towards the pavilion again. As she passed Percy, she whispered into his ear, "Pack up; we're leaving as soon as possible."

"Yes, I know, but from what I have gathered, much of your quest will be improvised, am I correct?"

Reyna stopped in her tracks, spinning around slowly to face the Captain again. "Yes, that is correct. However, we don't need any help from strangers, and we certainly don't need another person on this quest who we don't know we can trust."

"You owe me your life, Reyna, daughter of Bellona." Calmicil pushed past the eight other demigods to stand in front of the praetor, towering over the younger girl. "Your pride will be your downfall. I have an army of men behind me, and you have eight children as companions. Choose your friends and your foes wisely, and if you are wise, you would not make enemy of the Captain of Gondor."

Reyna held her ground, but uncertainty flickered in her dark eyes. Throughout her entire childhood and most of her life, the daughter of Bellona had been trained not to trust, to seek help only from the greatest and at the most desperate times. She didn't know this man well enough to trust him, but what choice did she have?

"_Your spirit fades quickly; journey to Rivendell to find help, and seek assistance from the captain of Gondor__."_

"You're the C-Captain of Gondor?" Reyna asked, remembering Galadriel's words and stammering despite her intentions to appear calm and stoic.

"Yes," Calmicil replied. "It is my duty to protect my people, and if we are to succeed in this endless war against evil, the Ring must be destroyed. Thus, I offer you my sword and my protection."

Reyna hesitated one last time before she made up her mind. Tilting her head just an inch as a silent warning, she accepted. "Let's get going then."

She wasn't sure, but out of the corner of her eye, Reyna thought she saw Calmicil smile.

* * *

**Um, okay, that was the corniest thing I've ever written and probably the worst chapter ever. Please accept my apology for terrible character interaction skills; an excuse would be the fact that I am overly excited over the fact Legolas will call Thranduil ada during one of the movies.**


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